Duel For You, Ben Davidson
by Commander Cody CC-2224
Summary: Felicity and her family and friends are invited to attend a grand ball held in Richmond, Virginia's recent capital city, which inevitably leads to a duel for her beloved Ben in defense of her honor. c.f. Shindig
1. Tavern Brawl

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

RATED "T" FOR TEEN.

In accordance with the FanFiction archive website's story rating system, this story is rated "T" for themes of mild sexualization of teenage girls, mild sexual themes, some themes of sensuality, some themes of gingerism, some depictions of violence, and some [mild] language.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Here we go with yet another Felicity/Ben fanfic with another semi-adventurous flick. (Technically you could call it a chic-flick coupled with action scenes.) Benjamin Davidson, one of the main characters of the Felicity series, gets to attend a ball with his beloved Lissie, only to end up in a duel in defense of his sweetheart's honor. Ben has done his share of fighting since he joined Col. Henry Lee's Fifth Regiment to perform his country's duties. But can he win a deadly match against a ruthlessly determined rival trying and vying for Felicity's affections, despite all odds?

The plot ideas for this fanfic were borrowed from the _Firefly_ series episode _Shindig_.

Disclaimer: I do not own Felicity Merriman and Benjamin Davidson, or any of the characters belonging to Felicity the American Girl. The plot ideas for this fanfic were borrowed from the _Firefly_ series episode _Shindig_, which was concocted by one of the series scriptwriters, Jane Espenson. Ideas were also derived directly from the script, too, which can be found in the Wikia website. Just type in Firefly and look through any possible references of the episode _Shindig_, as the FanFiction website does not allow for the capability of plastering web addresses directly onto its pages.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

Tavern Brawl

Early evening settled across an almost completely rebuilt Williamsburg in the Colony of Virginia as a crimson sunset bathed its glowing rays across the town during the cool spring in April of 1782. Most of the main streets were sparse with folk meandering back to their homes and various shelters, and a handful of horse-drawn carriages sped by, splashing mud sideways as they maintained their hurried paces. The streets were fairly muddy and the clapboard and brick buildings were a little drenched, as it had been raining all morning.

The only few places where much rowdy activity was jovially rife were in the local taverns, but none was rowdier than Williamsburg's prominent Raleigh Tavern. The interior of the tavern itself was bustling as usual, with all the upbeat fife-and-drum music lightening up the candlelit, common and rather gritty surroundings. Loud, coarse, and gruff chatter and laughter could be heard across the confines of the huge room, with various menfolk, a handful of womenfolk, and tavern girls chattering loudly and drinking all sorts of alcoholic beverages, such as ale, beer, and cider.

At the left-hand side of the tavern room were four rather civilized-looking people seated across a small round tilt-top table whose current recreation comprised of playing card games with each other; two young gentlemen in their early twenties and two young ladies in their prime teenage years by the respective names of a former war veteran named Benjamin Davidson, his war buddy Walter Wheaton, Felicity Merriman, who was his longtime sweetheart ever since the middle part of their childhood, and Felicity's best and longtime friend and confidante Elizabeth Cole. The boys, who were seated at the right hand side of the left tavern wall, were dressed in casual colonial outfits, but their appearances differed by a slight. Ben's outfit comprised of a bright red straightjacket over his plain white shift, brown-black breeches, and black buckled shoes, which displayed slight to moderate streaks of wear and tear. Walter's outfit was very much similar to Ben's in terms of form, though his straightjacket was of a dark green color, and his breeches were of a dark-brownish color as well. His stockings showed fair signs of wear and tear, and his shoes were a tad muddied. The only thing regarding appearances that both Ben and Walter had in common were their queues. A satin-white ribbon tied Ben's chocolate-brown hair into a ponytail. The very same thing could be said about Walter concerning his dark-brownish hair. Ben's chocolate-brown eyes would often betray his often diffident personalty, and Walter's hazel-brown eyes would occasionally dart about anywhere else in an alerted manner like a spunky child's and most of the time kept relaxed, unless it was time for him to unleash his humorous and occasionally brusque side.

Both Ben and Walter had a longtime history of participating in the 5th Continental Regiment, a subdivision in the Southern Department formerly under the command of Capt. Michael Howell, which prominently belonged to Col. Henry Lee's renowned Continental Light Dragoons, more officially known as Lee's Legion. A year after the American War for Independence took its inception, Ben initially began his career in the 5th Regiment when he reached eighteen, and had to undergo rigorous training in the training grounds near the Palace Green. Walter followed Ben's stead a few months later, and for the next several months before he and Ben left Williamsburg for the Savannah between the fall and winter season, they became best buddies throughout the years of the war. Their faces could pretty much tell you their years of service in the Continental Army, but since the life of an army horseman was better off by a tad compared to the life of an infantryman, their faces still retained their fairly youthful appearances, thanks to their thorough recuperation from the war in their beloved hometown.

The girls, on the other hand, were seated at the left hand side of the tavern wall. Felicity, who was seated nearest the wall, next to Ben, was wearing a homespun turquoise-striped work gown and a plain snow-white mobcap with her traditional red lace, which crowned the top of her youthful head. Her vibrant, youthful titian ginger-colored red hair was gathered up in a bun by a satin white colored ribbon, and glistened naturally in the candlelight. The girl had snappy emerald-green eyes, and was imbued with a personality to be occasionally temperamental, having her temper match the color of her hair. Elizabeth, who was seated next to Felicity, was a little more refined in her tastes, given the appearance of her ordinary bright yellow gown she was wearing, along with her plain creamy-white mobcap with a satin-white lace. Her wavy golden blonde hair, which had a tinge of bleach about it, and which naturally glistened in the candlelight as well, was gathered up in a bun the same manner as Felicity's was by the very same type of ribbon that Felicity herself was wearing. Elizabeth's eyes were an avid blue that could almost match the color of an azure sky, and had personality that was a little more reserved, gingerly, and bashful.

Walter, who was twenty years of age and three years younger than Ben, couldn't help ogling at Elizabeth. "You look awful pretty in that yellow dress, Miss Cole," he observed quite fluently and dreamily. "You with the golden hair and all that…"

Elizabeth giggled rather suggestively at that remark, and her friend Felicity followed suit. It seemed that the two merriest girls in Virginia had something in common when it came to laughable topics.

"I dare say, the color of her dress quite matches with the color of her hair," said Felicity, giving a cursory glance at Elizabeth before turning her eyes back on Walter. "Really, Walter, you act as you want to flirt with her."

"What?" exclaimed Walter half-humorously. "Miss Felicity, you…of all Williamsburg's finest ladies…"

"What Lissie says is somewhat partially true," put in Elizabeth. "Believe me, I sort of feel the same way you do."

Walter let out a hearty chuckle as he shrugged off Elizabeth's comment. "Elizabeth, you sultry minx, stop falling in love with me. I've already made my commitment with my sweetheart, Sarah." Walter's girlfriend, Sarah Bennett, a colonist who was sixteen years of age, was a young attractive brunette with chocolate-brown hair and hazel-brown eyes. Felicity made mention that Sarah was her younger sister Nan's best friend, and it was Sarah who was fairly influential in overcoming Nan's shyness, since Nan was pretty shy in nature. Sarah was currently taking gentlewoman lessons with the respectable spinster teacher Miss Frances Manderly.

"Speaking of that, Walter, how's your sweetheart doing?" Ben inquired, as he slapped won his mug of apple cider.

"She's at Miss Manderly's trying to learn the language of the Frogs," rejoined Walter a little tactlessly.

"Frogs?" asked Felicity, giggling a bit. "As in 'animals'?"

Walter heaved a rather exasperated sigh. "No, Miss Little Red Riding Hood," he replied. "The Frogs, as in Frenchies."

Elizabeth cast a rather disapproving look at Walter. "Don't call them Frogs," she chided him a little crossly, dismayed by his seeming lack of respect for the French, from her point of view. "'Tis most awfully rude." Elizabeth was currently taking French lessons at Miss Manderly's and she didn't take kindly to calling the French "Frogs".

"Aye, 'tis so," agreed Felicity. "Don't you remember? The French were gracious enough to help us colonists win this war?"

Walter shrugged a bit. "You mean the good Frogs?" he asked. "The ones that came to save our pathetic colonial skins?" Felicity shot him a rather cross look, which made Walter change his facial demeanor by a tad. "Aye, Miss Merriman," he continued, as he belched a little. "I love the good Frogs, though."

Elizabeth just shook her head disapprovingly. "Walter,…" she said.

"Oh, _please_," rejoined Walter with a sigh. "You and your 'gentlewoman lessons'. Are they turning you and your friend into pathetic, weak-hearted bits of a girl?"

Felicity scowled at Walter. "That's not true!" she cried indignantly. She immediately turned to Ben for assistance from Walter's mildly insulting remarks, resting her right hand on his left. "Ben, tell Walter to stop making fun of us," she implored him. "He's making us proper young ladies look bad."

Ben only cachinnated in reply as he slurped the last remains of his apple cider and slapped his mug down on the table. "Lissie, he's only teasing," he replied. "You know Walter's like that." Walter had a tendency to joke around during his career in the Fifth Regiment, which sort of balanced Ben's fair seriousness regarding the business of army duty.

"But his _jokes_ are _despicable_," Felicity hissed in a whisper, feeling a bit annoyed.

Ben only heaved a sigh as he stared into the drippy emptiness of his pewter cider mug. Felicity was feeling a tad exasperated about her beloved Ben's seeming tactlessness when Elizabeth gave her a tiny nudge on her right shoulder, which made her turn around until her eyes caught sight of her best friend, only to hear her making flattery comments about Felicity's younger siblings and how she just adored them. Ben had always been Felicity's young handsome knight in shining armor, but occasionally he could have some sort of propensity for tactlessness, as well as awkwardness.

"Lissie, I know you may get tired of this, but I really do like your siblings," she said a little tiredly, as if all that booze was influencing her mind. "They are so…adorable."

Felicity heaved a rather exasperated sigh. "Oh, Elizabeth," she opinionated. "You're just giddy after all that cider you've drunk in one sitting. Sometimes they quarrel a lot over their playtime." She heartily patted her firm, well-developed breasts, which sexily rose up and down a little from the low-cut area of the bodice of her gown whenever she took deep breaths. Felicity's bosom seemed to be the envy of her younger sister Nan, and possibly Elizabeth, whose bosom was a little flat-chested, but not as fairly large as Felicity's, though it was set nice and firm on her dainty chest. Elizabeth couldn't help but aim her gaze downward to Felicity's bodice.

"Elizabeth, I know you're being jealous about my bosom," Felicity said a little teasingly to her friend. "I can feel it whenever you look at the bodice of my gown."

"Lissie, please!" said a dismayed Elizabeth, as she planted her right hand firmly on her pillowing bosom. "Do not make such a presumption! Are you just trying to make me feel bad?"

Felicity chuckled to herself. "No," she replied in the midst of her laughter. "Why?"

Elizabeth gave her friend a rather solemn look. "Lissie, really. 'Tis bad enough that I hear such taunting remarks from Annabelle," she reminded her best friend seriously. Annabelle was Elizabeth's older sister who was six years older than Elizabeth was. She had just visited the Cole family during Christmas of 1781 with her husband, Lord Harry Andrews, from London, England, and the very first thing that Annabelle commented on about her younger sister was how horribly flat-chested her bosom was; at least, according to Elizabeth, that was how her older sister said it, though it was a little too far from the truth from how Elizabeth's bosom was actually formed under God's good graces. Nevertheless, that particular comment from Annabelle made Elizabeth shy away to her chair. To Elizabeth the whole experience was a little too embarrassing to bear.

To try to forget about the way she was treating Elizabeth, Felicity took a hearty swig from her mug of ale. "Oh, don't worry, Elizabeth," Felicity tried to reassure her in a manner that most girls her age would criticize another girl who acted too prissy from her point of view. "Really…your bosom is just fine." And with that Felicity mischievously poked the upper part of Elizabeth's left breast. Elizabeth at first was shocked at what Felicity did, but then Felicity burst into a seemingly uncontrollable fit of giggles, and Elizabeth felt that she just had to laugh. Both girls were now tittering loudly like a pack of hyenas.

Walter started chuckling to himself at the scene the girls were making. "Listen to them," he said, as he pointed his mug at the giggling girls.

Elizabeth was a little giddy from the ale she drunk as she faced Felicity. "Your sister Nan keeps telling me…about how mightily jealous she can be about your bosom," she said to her friend, teasingly wagging her right hand index finger at her.

Felicity made a slightly nervous gulp in her throat as she tried to regain her senses as she tried to wave off her friend's finger-pointing. "I know," she agreed. "She can make quite a prattling about it, too."

Ben seemed to suspect that the girls were getting kind of drunk. "While you girls are prattling away about…bosoms…or whatever they're called…I intend to get myself another ale," he said.

"What?" complained Walter sarcastically. "You're going to leave me here to tend to this flock of two merriest girls in all Virginia?"

"Aye," replied Ben briskly. "Want another?"

"Another what?" retorted Walter. "Another girl?"

"No," Ben answered rather exasperatingly. "Another cider."

Walter glumly shook his head. "No, thanks," he replied with a grunt. "I fear too much of that…thing…is going to dull my senses."

"Fine with me," rejoined Ben in his nonchalantly casual manner. Snatching his pewter mug, he strutted off to the bar counter to make his request.

"Wow," he remarked sardonically. "It seems…I'm the only boy in the company of girls now."

Felicity made a glum-looking face at Walter in response to his complaining remark. "Be thankful…that you're not in the company of mean-looking British soldiers and officers," she said to him. "They don't treat brave boys like you with very much dignity."

"Lissie,…not all soldiers and officers in the King's army are very bad people," put in Elizabeth, in reference to the British army under King George III, with whom the Thirteen Colonies successfully emancipated themselves from. "Some of them…can be very gentlemanly."

"Are you saying that because you're British?" Walter asked a little sneeringly. "And because they treat you nicely on account of your Tory leanings?"

"No, I'm not saying that because I'm British,…or because of my political leanings" answered Elizabeth, who was feeling pretty miffed over Walter's contemptuous-sounding statements about the King's army. "I'm saying that…because…well,…it's a fact." Somehow Elizabeth was beginning to feel somewhat stupid about her reply. And Felicity knew it.

"Don't feel too bad, Elizabeth," said Felicity a little consolingly, as she struggled to regain back her senses. "You know Walter and Ben have fought hard to keep our country free from British rule. 'Tis only natural he acts like that, and mayhap deservedly so, since both he and Ben have greatly risked their lives and spill their blood in order to guarantee the freedom all of us now enjoy." She put her left hand around Elizabeth's head and gently stroked her wavy blonde hair, past the area where the ribbon gathered her hair in a bun, and up to the very end of the bun itself.

Walter was somewhat unaware that Ben was just on his way back to the table with another mug of ale. He ogled at the girls with interested and unperturbed glee as he reclined at the back of his chair. "I tell you, ladies, when you're exposed to youth far more often, the butterflies in your gut start to go flippity-flop."

Both girls tittered to each other in reaction. "Really?" inquired Felicity, facing Walter as she laughed to herself.

Ben was looking rather cross at Walter. "You're not flirting with my sweetheart, are you?" he asked rather seriously, as he took his usual seat near his buddy, though there was some hint of sarcastic humor to it.

"No," replied Walter half-nervously. "Why?"

"You were ogling at the girls," replied Ben.

"So?"

"So, if you're ogling at the girls, that basically means you've got the inclination to court one of them, and it sure isn't going to be my sweetheart Lissie."

"Or me," put in Elizabeth. "I have a boy…a man…a man-boy, or however you choose to call him, and his name…is Phillip." Phillip Michaels was Elizabeth's milk-chocolate-brown haired, medium-gray-eyed fiancé who was roughly two years older than she was. Even though Phillip was an English gentleman by birth, Elizabeth considered him to be a rather open-minded person when it came to political matters. And that was especially true, even though he was a Loyalist at heart, just like Elizabeth was.

"Well, tell me something I don't know," retorted Walter, who was feeling somewhat teased by his fellow co-ed compatriots. He stretched up from his seat. "Changed my mind a bit when I said I never wanted a drink from you. I'm getting another drink in the bottle and it's called _'brandy'_." And with that, he sauntered off the same path Ben took to the bar counter.

Walter's rhetorical demand was answered in a rather unusual and disturbing way when two grubby hands slapped hard on the tilt-top table. All four of the group slowly looked up. It was a scrawny-looking middle-aged man, about Ben's size. He was dressed in a black coat of the gentry, and wore a pale-white powdered periwig over his half-shaven crowning glory, a wool-white cravat, and an upside-down V sash, as an external indicator that he was some kind of clergyman from the Anglican church. His face was a little baggy, given the nature of his etchedly straining look. And his slightly high-heeled fashionable black buckled shoes were immensely muddy from meandering too much around the muddied dirt streets of Williamsburg.

"Well," he began in a gruff and booming voice. "If it isn't two fine young lovebirds come to drink to their hearts content over possible marriage prospects…and,…" he wagged his right hand index finger in a moralistic manner. "…Getting themselves…irresponsibly drunk to the point where they cannot take care of their own damn selves."

Both Felicity and Elizabeth felt mightily insulted about what the man said. But Ben tried to be a tad humorous about the smoldering situation.

"Um…sir,…" he began as politely as he could afford to do, as if he was acting on stage. "…Only my Lissie and I are the lovebirds. My longtime comrade, Walter Wheaton, and Lissie's confidante…Miss Elizabeth Cole…are the ones…not in love…at the present."

"I see," replied the man in a rather sneering manner as he wagged his finger at him in an accusing manner. "But mind you,…Master…"

"Benjamin Davidson," added Ben.

"…Master Davidson," continued the man, "…That still does not change the fact…that you have the _gall_…to _associate_…in the presence of your friend…with two young _prostitutes_…who are at the prime of their lives…and who will know doubt…use their _irresistible_ charms…to drag you into the depths of Gehenna…where…as Scripture says…there will be wailing…and grinding of teeth."

Felicity never bothered to give a damn as to whether this guy was somewhat of a learned clergyman or not; she felt immensely livid that this man dared to insult her honor and the honor of her friend by calling them "prostitutes". Especially provoking to Felicity was the fact that this man had just used Scripture in his attempt to justify his insults; at least that was from her point of view. She was not going to let him get away with this, even if he was several years older than she was. Nervousness crept into every area of Elizabeth's nerves as her friend prepared for her first salvo of cold and resentful words against the gentleman.

"_Sir_," she began aloof, putting much contempt into the word as she could, "I think you of all people know better than to call my best friend and I 'prostitutes'. We came to have a good time; not…to degrade ourselves."

"Then frankly,…woman," replied the man. "You…have just come to the wrong place. The bar…is for merriment…and fornication." At least that was from his point of view. Whether the Raleigh Tavern was set for such purposes remained to be seen. He immediately turned to Ben, whom he was the first to initially greet on his first encounter. "Your _sweetheart_…acts as though she is accountable to no one…or God," he continued. "Also is the _undeniable_ fact that her hair…is blotchy red. And redheads…or '_gingers'_…if you will…such as the one with a gingerly color you see betwixt this golden-haired lady…and your comrade,…is a scourge…on all things godly…as they indeed are the marks…of _beastly_ sexual desires…and moral degenerations. Therefore your girl is a witch…and a whore. She must be burned."

Felicity looked up at the man mortified. Instantly she jumped up from her seat, defiant, with a temper as red as her hair. Her sparkling emerald-green eyes blazed with heartfelt wrath. Clenching her fists in heated fury, she proceeded to burst forth her fuming retort. Elizabeth shrank back in her seat as she personally braced for the next round of vehemence that Felicity would unleash in the manner of Greek Furies.

"How _dare_ you!" she shouted with an unladylike squeak. "You are no gentleman to speak such _dreadful_ things about me and the color of my hair!" With a temper to match her red hair, Felicity glared immensely at the well-dressed gentleman who dared to act like a jerk before her very eyes. "Away with you at once before I _punch_ your awful face!"

Suddenly the entire tavern room was encompassed in dead silence. A majority of the onlookers, including a handful of the servant girls present, were very much aghast at Felicity's heated behavior.

"Whoa," remarked Walter at the back in reaction to the tavern folk staring immensely at the little group.

Ben put his hand on Felicity's shoulder, beckoning her to just sit down. Felicity decided to give in for her beloved's sake, on the presumption that Ben would find a way to deal with the mess she made. The gentleman chortled wickedly.

Ben faced the man in the eye like an adversary in a deadly duel. "I will not have you making unkind remarks about my sweetheart, or my sweetheart's best friend," he said in a grave tone of voice.

The gentleman sneered. "'Tis the will of God," he replied in a rather malicious manner.

"The hell with the will of God," rejoined Ben. Most of the tavern folk were aghast about Ben's seemingly irreverent reply, but Ben for the most part ignored their flabbergasted reactions of dismay and whispers. "I don't see how a merciful God justifies the burning of my innocent sweetheart," he said coolly.

The gentleman peered closer to Ben's chocolate-brown eyes. "If you don't do the will of God,…you die," he said spitefully.

Ben gave a rather dry smile at the man, pretty confident in the knowledge that his God was a God of free will. "The hell I will," he rejoined. And with that he right away landed a good, solid punch on the side of the gentleman's face with his right hand. Stunned completely, he immediately landed face forward on a tilt-top table, toppling the table lid on his right side area before dropping flat to the tavern floor in a slumped manner. The man was now unconscious.

Elizabeth was also shocked at what Ben dared to do, and it was expected that Felicity should feel dismay over her beloved's deed in defense of her honor, but this time, Felicity was flouncing at Ben, staring a little crossly at him. "Why didn't you let me punch him?" she asked crossly. "I had just as much right to give his face a good smacking for insulting my honor and the honor of my best friend as you do."

Ben smiled dryly again as he cricked his hand to alleviate the pain from the impact. "What?" he asked rather sarcastically. "And take out all the fun? C'mon." Felicity only heaved an exasperated sigh in response.

But Ben's stint in the tavern room was not without consequence from the other customers. Some of the tavern folk, angry and fearful of their lives lest Ben did the same to anyone who had the gall to challenge him, slowly brandished their long knives and pocket knives, and some quietly cocked the hammers of their flintlock firearms. One man, however, a gruff, ragged-looking Virginian farmer in his light tan-colored frontier clothes, immediately sprang up from his seat at the other end of the tavern room opposite where Ben and his friends were seated.

"You _dare_ insult a man of God?" he bellowed. His words of utter fury echoed and shook the tavern room to its core.

"'Twasn't a man of God," answered Ben straightly and forthrightly. "That was just some religious freak come to insult my feminine compatriots."

But the farmer didn't bother listening. In his uncontrolled, irrational fury he picked up a chair with both hands and tried to hurl it at Ben. Fearing that the chair would end up hitting the girls, Ben toppled the tilt-top table to their front causing both Felicity and Elizabeth to get knocked to the floor, with their cider drinks spilling on their gowns.

"Ouch!" squeaked Elizabeth.

"My breasts!" cried Felicity, as she massaged her bosom, which was hit slightly by the edge of the fallen table's top. "Ooh."

In a split second, the barmy Virginian farmer madly rushed at Ben like a mad bull with a loaded Brown Bess musket, along with a bayonet attached at barrel's end. Ben sprinted to his left seconds before the bayonet's point got stuck fast on the wooden panel, due to the sheer force put into trying to stab it at Ben, which fortunately Ben managed to miss by a long shot. Instantaneously, Ben pushed the madman away, forcing the bayonet-attached gun to spring off the wall as the farmer accidentally fired the gun off, the blast aiding in propelling the bayonet-attached musket off the wall from its stuck-fast position. The loud blast of the gun made both Felicity and Elizabeth shudder.

Catching the falling firearm with a firm grip on both hands, Ben whacked the farmer hard on his lower torso region in a counterclockwise direction, using the butt of the gun. Then he made another violent swing at the farmer, this time in a clockwise direction. Ben's intended whacking target was the farmer's neck or head area, but due to the musket's fairly weighty size, and given the fact that he wore off his arms a bit after his first strike, he ended up striking the gun butt near the top of the farmer's right shoulder area, with the musket itself completely giving way as it splintered in two. The broken firearm now rendered useless against the pretty tough farmer, Ben flung the barrel away from his right hand and without hesitation landed a mighty punch against the farmer's head, which knocked him violently to the wooden floor, sprawling and grimacing in sheer pain.

Milliseconds after Ben's first strike at his attacking tavern brawler, a handful of other tavern folk, the majority of them being former militiamen during the war, immediately sprang up into action in support of the knocked out farmer and were about to intervene on the farmer's behalf when Walter stepped into the scene in support and loyalty for Ben, like a person who took politics at an exceptionally personal level. Seconds when these tavern folk were on the brink of making their assaulting rush against Ben, Walter tripped one of the taverners, causing the Domino effect of knocking out the next handful of menfolk near him. In reaction, one of the taverners grabbed a broomstick from a frightened servant girl and attempted taking a swing against Walter, but being the agile type, Walter managed to duck the swinging broom pole, which was frighteningly swinging frighteningly at full speed in one missed hell of a stroke. He then grabbed right away at the broomstick on the area near the broom head.

The confrontation was now a tug-of-war between the farmer and Walter himself. Walter made a 15 degree turn before giving the farmer a single hard push with his strong right foot, which knocked the farmer literally off-balance onto a dish-laden tilt-top table, wherein the table gave way, allowing for the man to crash noisily to the ground, landing directly on his back with a loud thumping sound.

Ben's brief interesting moment of Walter making a rather stupendous scene of himself was no doubt interrupted rudely when the same sprawling gruff farmer with whom Ben had an initial confrontation with deliberately tripped him off-balance onto the hard wood floor using his active right leg. Ben was shoved off-balance and he landed splat on the floor backward with a hard thud. Both girls goggled in shocking reaction at the scene; Elizabeth nervously had her hand fixed to her gaping mouth, and Felicity watched the scene, agape with dismay.

Felicity herself proceeded to assist Ben in any way she could, but by the time the farmer had struggled to get up, he roughly shoved Felicity to the ground, forcing her to land splat in a messy heap. That second, Ben lifted a plain wooden chair with all his strength and with both hands shoved the top part of the chair against the man's face, thereby knocking him down to the floor a second time. By that time, Elizabeth was up on her own two feet. A second after Ben slammed the chair back down on the floor, Elizabeth in her sheer fright ended up tripping on a stray half-empty brandy bottle and ended up landing directly on Ben face-forward.

For a second, Felicity thought that her best friend was about to flirt with Ben! "Gracious, Elizabeth! Not on Ben!" she cried.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Lissie," Elizabeth bespoke in a straining tone of voice. "I couldn't help it." At this point, Ben was struggling with all his might to push Elizabeth off his body.

Meanwhile, on an area near the bar counter, where Walter knocked out his first adversary in a relatively fair fight, a hotheaded middling man in olive-drab-looking colonial outfit and flat-black three-cornered hat over his woolly white bag-and-tie wig performed a mad direct rush at him. Walter's lightning-quick response to the one-man onslaught was two-fold. First, Walter broke off the broom head from the broomstick by setting the broomstick in a manner where the broom head stamped the floor, holding the broomstick with his wielding right hand and stamping his left foot on the area almost halfway near the broom head as hard as he could, thereby separating the head from halfway near the attached end of the stick itself. Then he twirled the stick with his right hand near the top, spherical end in the manner of martial arts master before giving way to the rushing madman, allowing Walter to splat the stick directly on his adversary's middle area of his torso region. The madman spun 360 degrees vertically before being knocked flat on the floor as a result. Walter rushed off with his broken broomstick.

At the very back end of the tavern, two people can bee seen struggling violently against each other in a drunken fit. A man was knocked face-flat on a circular four-legged table by another man. Nearby, two men were violently struggling against each other in hand-to-hand mêlée, with one guy swinging a hard wooden bludgeon at him. At the middle area of the tavern room, Ben extended his right arm with his fists clenched seconds after he sprints to his left side to dodge a charging taverner in a drab outfit. The victim got knocked to the floor instantly during Ben's quick arm takedown technique.

Seconds after Ben was able to assist the girls on getting themselves up from sprawling in an unladylike fashion on the floor, a burly Virginian frontiersman in a ragged khaki-colored buckskin outfit executed an encompassing grab across Ben's shoulders with his burly arms. Ben attempted a violent shake-off by gripping his hands on each of his adversary's sturdy gripping arms with all his strength, but the guy was way to strong for him to subdue in a single blow. Being a hotheaded tomboy, Felicity, in all her staunch hotheadedness, dutifully performed her part in the closed-quarters battlefield in intervention by theatrically performing her own encompassing grab across the guy's neck in a rather pathetic manner. In response, the frontiersman stamped Felicity's right foot twice hard with his booted right foot, which made Felicity wince in fairly excruciating pain, and did a violent back-thrust at her with sheer force, pushing Felicity away and allowing her to crash-land on a brandy-ridden floor. Just when the frontiersman thought that he had full gripping control of his victim for a second, Ben came up with a backward head-butt against the man. He then performed a backward grab of the man's buckskin coat collar, spun around, gyrated around, twisted his coat, pulled back on the adversary by the scruff, and forcibly thrust him to the floor with sheer strength.

Nearby the bar counter, Walter was in the grisly business of tackling yet another tavern adversary. A slender looking boy a few years older than he rashly attempted a pushing kick at him, but Walter managed to catch hold of his right leg in the whizzing nick of time before the kick could be fully executed. Then, while holding the chap's leg firm in the grip of his strong left arm, Walter used his other hand to swing a hard and nasty punch at the guy, knocking him silly. The young man lost his balance and fell to the floor, with Walter half-humorously letting go of the guy's leg. The boy lay backward, sprawling on the floor.

Another man tried to thrust a butcher's knife at Walter, but he managed to sprint aside to his right, on account of the offender using his right arm. He grabbed the knife handle in the nick of time, delivered a hard and violent kick directly on the man's groin area, and pushed him aside.

Meanwhile, where the middle of the tavern room had literally become a hot place for the brawling tavern customers, the same Virginian farmer whom Ben had crossed seconds ago in two previous brawling rounds tried to land a woefully unguided swinging punch at Ben himself, but Ben managed to successfully dodge the incoming blow by ducking low under the farmer's dangerous swinging arm. As Ben sprang himself upright like a strong metal spring, he utilized his left arm to grab his seconds-old adversary in the torso region, used his free right hand to close his strong grip on the man's face, and violently hurled him with sheer force to the wall area at the back end of the tavern room, leaving him sprawling on the floor once again near the wall itself.

Near the area next to the bar counter once again, Walter managed to duck the single swinging blow of a thirteen-year-old boy dressed in nothing but his waistcoat and shift, save for his breeches and worn-out black buckled shoes, as the boy clumsily swung some sort of boomerang-like Indian weapon in an unwieldy manner. When the boy's Indian bludgeon hit the floor instead, Walter took a hasty step forward and swung a nasty punch at his young face with his right arm. The boy hit the bar counter with his head face-flat and Walter struck the boy on the head and hurled his body aside.

Meanwhile, a serious mussed-up Ben lent his hand to the girls. "Come on! I'm getting you out of here!" he called.

"What about Walter?" Felicity asked.

"He's coming. He can take care of himself for the time being. You girls can't."

Felicity most likely would have protested that last statement that Ben made, but in the middle of a violent tavern brawl, she would have to go with what was for the time being best for her, as well as for Elizabeth.

Ben accompanied a now mussed-up Felicity and Elizabeth out of the tavern. Seconds later, after the trio exited the Raleigh Tavern, the same thirteen-year-old boy whom Walter had just confronted a few seconds go, and was still confronting, was hurled in midair over the bar counter and violently smashed directly on a brandy shelf before crash-landing splat on the corner of the back end of the reception area, sprawling on the hard wood floor in a sopping, brandy-stained state. And all that happened much to the clean-shaven and slightly overweight alderman's surprise, as he took his cursory glance at the injured fellow the moment Walter took his rough and unceremonious leave.

* * *

This is only the prelude for the other chapters to come. I've got everything pretty much figured out regarding the plot line for this story, but it will take a while to put things all into words. So just bear with me, my avid Lissie/Ben fans.

A/N (1): The likely to exact time of this particular starting point in the story would be April 20, 1782 A.D., around 5:00-6:00 in the evening.

A/N (2): A/N: The name Michaels (or rather, Phillip Michaels) was borrowed from MackenzieW's American Girl fan fiction story titled _The Return of Bananabelle_. I thought the name Elizabeth [Cole] Michaels had a rather nice ring to it, so I decided to make use of the name Michaels.

A/N (3): The idea of Ben joining Col. Henry Lee's Dragoons (a.k.a. Lee's Legion), rather than as a common soldier, was derived from pansyphoenix's Lissie/Ben fan fiction on The Dark Phoenix. The very idea of it sounded so cool and reasonable, since Ben, as seems to be implied in the Felicity series books (and movie, too), seems to be quite adept with horses. Of course I decided to have it that Ben joined a subdivision of Lee's Legion: The 5th Regiment of Light Foot Infantry (possibly known as the 5th Regiment of Horse), which, according to him, was under command of Dragoon Captain Michael Howell. (This is a fictional Dragoon Regiment under Lee's Legion. Allusions of the 5th Regiment can be found in my Lissie/Ben fanfic titled _The Silent Romantic Moment of Felicity and Ben_ and _Benstown_.)

A/N (4): The name Andrews was borrowed from MackenzieW's American Girl fan fiction story titled _The Return of Bananabelle_. I thought the name Lady Annabelle Andrews had a rather nice ring to it, so I decided to make use of the name Andrews.


	2. Regal Invitation

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 2

Regal Invitation

The moment after Walter took his leave of the Raleigh Tavern, a half-empty wine bottle was hurled straight out of the tavern's entranceway. The bottle impacted and shattered near Ben's feet.

Ben simply shrugged in response to this attempted violent outburst, as he made a mental decision to lead the rest of the group back to the Merriman residence. "I guess that's what happens when you try to desecrate someone who looks like a man of God," he remarked wryly with a bit of sarcasm.

Elizabeth, however, had second thoughts about the man dressed in reverend's clothes. "I really don't think he was," she asserted rather nervously.

"Me, too," put in Felicity in a cross manner. "True men of God _never_ do such detestable things like what he tried doing to us."

"I agree," Ben voiced a little casually. "But I'll admit, he did try his utmost to make us feel guilty and judged before God's eyes."

The group was now ambling across lantern-lit streets of Duke of Gloucester when Felicity was massaging her breasts. Ben instantly took notice of that.

"Lissie, what's with you?" he canvassed rather incredulously in a half-humorous manner.

"Um…" Felicity began hesitantly. She thought that it was rather inappropriate for men to be peering into the affairs of a woman's body parts. However, Felicity caught Ben's attention once again when she started uttering cooing sounds while trying to massage her bosom, due to the slight impact it received when Ben shoved the tilt-top table at her and Elizabeth in order to protect them from the incoming chair hurled directly at them by the Virginian farmer.

"Owwy," she moaned quietly.

Ben sighed. "Let me see," he intervened as he made his prompt approach to his Lissie. With both his manly hands he started massaging and patting Felicity's breasts as well. The perkiness of Felicity's bosom was almost enough to stir up flutters in Ben's beating heart.

Elizabeth's reaction to the scene was a disapproving, yet straight face with the hint of a tiny smile. "Ben!" she exclaimed disapprovingly. "How could you? You're not even married yet, and…

"Right, right. I get your point, as usual, Lizzie," Ben interrupted in exasperation, as he was not in the mood for listening to Elizabeth's lectures on the notions of moral purity. He continued feeling around Felicity's bosom. He felt his heart pounding in sensation as his right hand made contact wit the firm, solid form of Felicity's bosom.

"You should be all right, I hope," said Ben.

"Ben, please," pleaded Felicity. "Not when there's a lot of people around. 'Twould be most scandalous."

Ben sprung up his hand off Felicity's bosom with a little mock dismay. "Wow," he said a little sarcastically. "Since when did prissiness take over you in your entirety, Felicity Merriman? Only your prissy little sister Nan says things like that."

"Aye, tis true," agreed Felicity a bit understandingly. "Truth be told, I do not mind the touch of the man I love. But I fear your actions to me in public will attract the gossips of this town, and thus ruin our reputation."

"Like Mrs. Fitchett?" asked Ben a little forcibly.

Felicity nodded to Ben's reply. Mrs. Fitchett was the stout-looking, gossipy woman whose almost daily activities comprised of using the Merriman General Store as a chitchat forum.

"That isn't all that surprising," said Ben wryly.

"It shouldn't be," put in Elizabeth. "Any mention of public display of affection is juicy news in this community."

"Well, Lissie was in pain," Ben protested defensively. "So I had to make sure she was all right."

"I see your point, Ben," Elizabeth said a little understandingly. "But you just cannot use that as an excuse to audaciously touch a young lady's most intimate parts."

"I…Wha…" Ben stammered at the beginning. "Most intimate parts?" he questioned only louder.

"Shhh!" warned Felicity and Elizabeth together, with their fingers over their mouths.

Suddenly Ben was in a defensive mood. "Lissie," Ben complained to Felicity, "Can't you tell your prissy close friend to try to be a little more understanding about what I was trying to do for you…simply because…I love you?"

Felicity just simply heaved a sigh, half smiling, as if the discussion was not worth continuing for her. She and the rest of her friends continued walking back to her house.

The Merriman household was pretty much bustling with fairly lively activity. Mrs. Merriman and the black household servant, Rose, were tidying up the parlor, as well as the dining room, during the spring cleaning. Mrs. Merriman was pretty exhausted from all that housework as time went by, so she asked her younger daughter Nan, who was fourteen years of age, to pitch in the housework a bit as she graced things a bit in the family dining room. Polly, the youngest child in the Merriman family who was eight years old, was busying herself dusting the furniture, sashaying around a bit, and William, the third to the oldest who was eleven, was laboring over the wall-scrubbing business in the dining room in a rather bored and unenthusiastic manner of doing.

Mrs. Martha Merriman was a typical housewife in her mid-to-late 30s who was often particular about the aspects of feminine gentry. Most of the time she wore a pinner cap over her natural marigold-colored head. Her husband, Mr. Merriman, was the mercantile businessman who owned and operated a General Store on Duke of Gloucester. Her younger auburn-haired daughter, Nan, had a sweet and sensible personality, which seemed to be reflected in her green-brown eyes, and was always given to mildly criticizing members in the Merriman family about the rules of propriety in a gentlewoman's realm. The third to the youngest and only son, William, had a tendency to relatively harmless mischief. Like most of his siblings, he was somewhat red-haired. And the youngest daughter, Polly, was just as precocious and gingerly as her eldest sister Felicity and almost resembled her, in terms of external appearance. Polly was just like Felicity in many ways, most notably in her spunky, sprightly personality.

The usual domestic routine was interrupted when a rapping at the door was heard.

"I'll get it mother," Polly piped eagerly. Nan sighed in exasperation, as it was usually she who did most of the answering of doors and at default it was she who answered the door on most occasions. Her generous effort was rendered futile by her youngest sister and she disliked that.

Rushing to the door, Polly steadily opened it wide. The sight of an elegantly dressed footman standing on the doorway almost intimidated her. From the looks of it the footman would be a private courier under hire from an influential member belonging to the English gentry.

"Good evening," Polly greeted precociously.

"Good evening, Miss," the footman greeted back. In utter promptness he handed a neatly folded regal-looking letter well-wrapped in a single scarlet-red ribbon lined across the length of the neatly folded invitation letter paper.

Polly nodded graciously and grinned excitedly. "Thank you," she said. The footman doffed his tricorn hat in courteous reply and took his gracious leave without another word. Polly slammed the door in excitement and sprinted off to the dining room.

"Mother! Mother! A letter just arrived today!" she cried excitedly.

"Really?" asked Mrs. Merriman almost exhaustively. The spring cleaning and household retouching was enough to drain her strength. Half-heartedly she took the envelope from her youngest daughter.

"What is it, ma'am?" Rose asked rather inquisitively.

"'Tis some kind of invitation, I dare say," Mrs. Merriman said a little gently, almost huffing.

Rose's dark eyes widened as she shrugged her shoulders in reaction, thinking as usual that she had no business with the affairs of the mistress she was working for. "Shall I leave you alone to enjoy every word?" she asked fairly considerately.

"If you wish," replied Mrs. Merriman as she proceeded to unseal the envelope. Rose promptly left dining room, herding Nan, William, and Polly out of the room itself. Mrs. Merriman peered carefully at the beautiful paper as she gently scraped open the seal and unfolded the paper. Her soft green eyes immediately widened, as she read every word on the letter.

The letter was an invitation to a grand ball at a place known as Duffman Manor, accordingly located in Virginia's capital city of Richmond. The exact words, written with the finest cursive penmanship of a typical well-schooled man or woman of the gentry, were as followed:

_The Honourable Lord and Lady Duffman present their moste favoured compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Merriman and request the utmost favour of the entire Merriman family at the Grande Ball at Duffman Manor in Richmond, the capital city of the Commonwealth of Virginia, on Saturday, the Twenty-Second of April, One Thousand Seven Hundred And Eighty-Two._

At the bottom of the letter, two lines below the body, was the P.S.:

_The Merriman family is invited to spend a few nights, if necessary, prior to the Ball, as gratitude for what one of their acquaintances, Master Benjamin Davidson, along with Master Walter Wheaton and Master Matthew Brady have done in the spirit and service of the Honourable Col. Henry Lee's Fifth Regiment of Lee's Legion when they dedicated their time and their lives to saving the property of Duffman Manor from certain destruction during the British takeover of the city of Richmond, during the year One Thousand, Seven Hundred and Eighty-One. Acquaintances are also invited as well, but only in limited number._

At the back of the letter were the names of other family members who were invited to the ball as well. One of the names that caught Mrs. Merriman's scanning eyes were the Coles, since Elizabeth was Felicity's best friend.

_A strange letter,_ thought Mrs. Merriman. _Yet very…intriguing._ Her mind started racing as to what on earth was Ben and his war buddies were doing during that particular incident. Mrs. Merriman continued peering at the beautiful paper and handwriting.

"Hmm…" mused Mrs. Merriman, looking at the invitation with a thoughtful sigh. However, her deep musings were cut short when the front door barged open, whereupon she was startled out of her wits. To her astonished dismay it was Ben and Walter. They looked pretty disheveled from the brawl at the Raleigh Tavern.

Mrs. Merriman cast them a silent but disapproving look at the young men, sighing in exasperation at both the boys on account of their disheveled state. "Well, isn't that just fine," she said haughtily for a gentlewoman.

The next double batch comprised of both Felicity and Elizabeth as they entered the foyer. They were the next to have disapproving glances cast by Mrs. Merriman on account of their completely mussed-up and brandy-stained gowns.

"Gracious, girls!" exclaimed Mrs. Merriman in shock. "You're a mess, both of you! What's gotten into you two?" Immediately in instinct she took notice of Felicity's tiny cut on the left side of her forehead and bent over a little to scrutinize closely.

"Lissie, you've got quite a cut on your pretty forehead," she informed seriously and briskly. Mrs. Merriman then surveyed Elizabeth's head and heaved a sigh in a mixture of slight exasperation and relief.

"Into the parlor room, all of you," she ordered. She turned her head opposite. "Rose?" she called.

"Yes'm?" Rose answered loudly in her Southern accent.

"A basin of water and some clean cloth," she requested. "And call the others."

Without delay and another word, Rose walked off quickly to fetch those specified items. Mrs. Merriman immediately sat Felicity and Elizabeth on the right side of the parlor room settee, and Ben and Walter on the left side, thus allowing for the respective order in which the four were seated.

"All right…let's see…" began Mrs. Merriman a tad softly.

Just in the nick of time, Rose, Nan, William, and Polly made their prompt arrival to the parlor room.

"Thank goodness you're all hear," said Mrs. Merriman. "William, bring me the cloths. Nan, I want you to dab a wet piece of cloth over Miss Elizabeth's forehead."

Mrs. Merriman lovingly attended to Felicity's and Elizabeth's little cuts and bruises they received as unintended souvenirs during the brawl. She also attended to Ben's and Walter's seemingly minor injuries as well. Nan, William, and Polly watched in fascination and worriment as Mrs. Merriman carefully but efficiently attended to their injuries like a regular field nurse.

"Your mother especially will not be too happy to see you with cuts and bruises," Mrs. Merriman said to Elizabeth with a sigh.

"No doubt," put in Nan wryly.

Actually, Elizabeth might have received a tiny bruise near her left side of her face. A slight, tiny cut was near Elizabeth's forehead, and seemed to be hardly noticeable, except to Mrs. Merriman's watchful and disapproving eyes. Mrs. Merriman turned to her eldest daughter.

"Honestly, Lissie, you should know better than to lead your friend to unseemly places."

"Whew!" put in Walter almost casually and exhaustively, in the manner as if he was relieved about something

Mrs. Merriman made a wry face on the four young adults. "So tell me what happened," she ordered almost half-heartedly in a rather exhaustive manner. "All of you."

"We…um…." Began Walter a tad hesitantly. He cleared his throat, then started acting as though he could never escape Mrs. Merriman's watchful gaze. "We ran into a spot of trouble at the Raleigh Tavern not a few minutes ago.

"There was a brawl," Ben simplified. "Simply put."

"You were in a brawl?" piped up William excitedly. "I should have been there!"

"William, hush," Mrs. Merriman chided before turning to Ben. "Why?" she asked him.

Elizabeth decided to answer for Ben. "Because…well…um…a man that looked like a reverend from church…well…not really one, I suspected…was insulting Lissie…about her looks."

Mrs. Merriman sighed and shook her head. She could remember the many times that she had to remind her eldest daughter about keeping a sensible head rather than impulsive plunging into thoughtless and boneheaded actions.

"Don't tell me that my Lissie has gone into one of her hotheaded moods again," she said. "'Tis most unseemly."

"Well, she did," put in Walter. "Somewhat." Felicity made a face at Walter in reaction. "But…you can thank good ol' Benjamin Davidson. He decided to have his own fun as well when he restrained her from taking matters into her hands."

"Lissie…" Mrs. Merriman said rather disapprovingly.

Felicity sighed. "'Twas my fault, Mother," she confessed in a matter-of-fact way. "Honestly."

"But the matter was resolved when Ben decided to put a good show for people about what happens to those who try to stain his Lissie's honor," Walter added a bit further.

"Meaning what?" Mrs. Merriman inquired worriedly.

Walter made a semi-humorous wry face. "He threw a punch at the man," he chirped.

"He what?" gasped Nan, instinctively raising her hand over her chest.

"How hard was it?" asked William.

"I never knew he could do that!" chirped in Polly.

Mrs. Merriman was almost in spasms over the idea. "Ben, really! How could you!" she exclaimed almost worriedly.

Ben was on now the defensive as he made his protestations. "The man was not really a reverend of sorts, just some crazed-up person who thought he could use his status as Reverend to impose his own puritanistic notions of moral turpitude in a manner that blatantly implied most ginger-haired people, girls especially, as…"

"As what?" Mrs. Merriman inquired anxiously.

Ben was rather hesitant to say what he thought in front of Felicity for the time being, and especially in front of Mrs. Merriman. So Walter intervened on Ben's behalf.

"Witches and whores," he finished.

Mrs. Merriman widen her eyes and mouth in shock. "You don't say," she uttered seriously.

"And it was enough to make Lissie feel grievously insulted," put in Elizabeth.

"But…why?" asked Nan with a concerned look.

Walter reflected a bit about the ginger situation of the times. "Maybe most people dislike gingers so much," he reasoned pretty simply.

"I'm not surprised," put in William a bit wryly. Most of the Merriman family members were redheads of sorts. Mr. Merriman was known for having auburn-brown hair, and Mrs. Merriman was also characterized as having reddish-marigold hair, and their traits were passed on to their offspring. This could almost explain why Felicity nearly resembled her mother, which was why Mrs. Fitchett was always commenting with interest on how Felicity's hair was as bright as marigold back when Felicity was nine and beyond. Nan and William could almost resemble their father as well, and Polly was just like Felicity in many ways.

However, there were some who viewed redheaded people as witches and objects of moral depravity, even to the point of equating them as children of the devil. So as a result Mrs. Merriman's Mama Grizzly instincts surged into her as she looked at her eldest daughter with love, as well as the rest of her children whenever something like this happened. If that pseudo-reverend was there before her and the children, no doubt she would feel the same way Felicity would.

Walter decided to break the sentimental mood. "But…you can thank good ol' Ben for standing up to her," he declared.

"I would have liked very much to hit him myself," Felicity declared crossly.

Mrs. Merriman heaved a sigh. "Lissie," she began, "'Tis very unseemly for a gentlewoman your age to be engaging in this type of behavior. All of Williamsburg will talk about it."

"Oh, let them talk!" Felicity spat in cross exasperation.

"Lissie!" Nan exclaimed sternly.

"Nan, please," pleaded Mrs. Merriman, asking her younger daughter to be a little more thoughtful of the current situation at hand.

Felicity hung her head. "I'm terribly sorry, Mother," she murmured. Generally she hated to make her mother unhappy when it came to her boneheaded actions, but there were times when she could not allow her very self to be a mere object of unjust taunting sport.

Mrs. Merriman put her right finger under Felicity's chin and raised her head in order that she could have a good look at her eldest daughter. "Just be thankful that you have someone to stand up for you," she said to her. "Your reputation would have been in terrible shambles if you were to take matters into your own hands. And just be proud of who you are, no matter what others may say about you."

Felicity nodded her head in a rather meek manner. "Aye, Mother," she finished.

Mrs. Merriman put her right hand upon her eldest daughter's left cheek. "That's my girl," she expressed understandingly in a motherly sort of way.

Elizabeth decided to change the subject a bit by offering her gratitude to Mrs. Merriman for patching them up. "Mrs. Merriman," she began. "I…I really know not how else to convey my gratitude to you for treating our injuries."

"Tosh," put in Mrs. Merriman as she put aside the mending cloths for the time being. She knew it was her duty as a gentlewoman to tend to the hurts of others. It was what she did with both wounded American and British soldiers during the British takeover of Williamsburg.

Suddenly it dawned on her that the news of the Duffman Manor Ball invitation should be disclosed to the rest of her brood, including other acquaintances.

"Now girls…and boys…," she began. "Before you leave…" she turned to Nan, William, and Polly. "And the other reason why I've called you here…" she continued her announcement. "…is because I have such _wonderful_ news to share with you."

Felicity perked up her head excitedly, as if anticipating something of great interest; something much more interesting than the recent Raleigh Tavern brawl. Elizabeth also perked up her head as well; her avid blue eyes radiant with excitement from anticipation of an interesting event about to be disclosed.

"It seems…that your family and I are invited to a grand ball, which is supposed to take place three days from today at Duffman Manor house in Richmond."

"Really?" Felicity piped up excitedly, as if the whole idea of being invited to a formal ball by a lord and lady was too good to be true . She could vividly remember being invited to a dance lesson at the Governor's Palace on January back when she was nine, and it made her nostalgic. But this was no dance lesson; this was a formal ball, and the etiquette standards could be tad different than that of a dance lesson. Because Ben was not invited to the Palace on account of his apprenticeship, he could only drop Felicity off at the dance lesson and pick her up when it was over. This time, the ball could allow for both Felicity and Ben to be together. _Ben and me…won't it be so romantically marvelous_, Felicity marveled dreamily to herself.

"That _is_ most wonderful!" put in Elizabeth in a similar manner as that of her best friend.

Polly could not help jumping up and down happily in a hyperactive manner, clapping her hands. "A ball! Oh, joy!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Felicity was beginning to muse on being able to dance away with her beloved. "I can't wait to dance to the wonderful music with Ben," she declared dreamily, already envisioning herself totally wrapped up in her beloved's manly arms.

"And I with dear Phillip," Elizabeth put in dreamily, too.

Mrs. Merriman beamed with cheerful delight tinged with a mixture of understanding. She could see that the older girls especially were eager to get carried away in bliss with their soul mates in courtship. The only individual who didn't particularly feel that confident with dance was Ben.

"I have to admit, Mrs. Merriman, I wasn't always that particularly good with dancing," he confessed rather awkwardly.

"Ben, really! This isn't a good time to be breaking the mood here!" Felicity chided him. "I can show you the steps if you'll let me."

Ben shrugged in reaction. It dawned on him that Walter at one time told him to just simply get carried away in a dance by looking his sweetheart deeply in the eyes and not worry about the dance steps.

Mrs. Merriman shook her head in a humorous manner. "The ball takes place two days after tomorrow, which means that if you wish to attend it you will have to devote some portion of your time preparing for it." She sifted through the envelope. "It also says here that we are to be taking up temporary residence at Duffman Manor. They said something about acquaintances as well, but we can only bring…one."

"One person, you mean?" Walter asked half-humorously.

"Presumably one set," said Mrs. Merriman. She briefly disposed herself toward Elizabeth. "I suppose this means we can invite you and your family with us as well, Miss Elizabeth," she bespoke to the Cole girl.

"Really?" Elizabeth inquired in unusual wonder. "My family and I have always been Loyalists. I don't suppose…"

"Tosh. Never mind that," interrupted Mrs. Merriman. "The war is over. And though not exactly long past, 'tis time that we started healing the wounds against each other during the forming of this new nation."

"I dare say this time isn't exactly right for acrimony," put in Walter.

Felicity was overcome with curiosity about the Duffman Manor invitation. "How come we are allowed to take temporary residence at the Duffmans'?" she asked inquisitively.

"Don't know, really, but I strongly suspect it could be a courtesy of what Ben and I…and Brady as well did with her house close to the end of the war."

"I see…" put in Mrs. Merriman, fascinated of what other history could be behind the invitation. Both Ben and Walter knew full well that Matthew Brady was one of their youngest and much-loved comrades in the 5th Regiment of Lee's Legion, not to mention their favorite, due to the fact that he had been with Ben's squad for a long time during the war. A dashing fellow with light blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair, he was the epitome of good looks and charm, and could customize his personality to suit the conditions of his surroundings. They both met with him during the inception of their careers. Unfortunately, Matthew Brady perished during the Siege of Yorktown, so if the name Brady was on the guest list, it could presumably be that his family members and acquaintances could be coming over.

"A logical guess," Ben put in casually in regard to the very likely arrival of Brady's kinsfolk.

"When will Father be home?" asked William loudly.

"He's still at the General Store," answered Mrs. Merriman. "Most likely he will be home by suppertime." She turned to Elizabeth again. "Would you like to join us?"

"I'd love to," replied Elizabeth, "But I have to get home before seven. Mama will be most cross with me if I'm late."

"At least _she_ doesn't have to worry about old Annabelle Bananabelle giving her a good scolding," Felicity remarked rather mischievously about Elizabeth concerning the eldest Cole sister.

"Lissie, really!" exclaimed Mrs. Merriman. It was likely that she knew a bit of the history of that nickname, but that remained to be seen.

"'Tis a nickname Lissie came up with," Elizabeth said defensively, as she said almost many times whenever someone inquired about the name.

"Well, for goodness' sakes, have some civility," Mrs. Merriman chided her eldest.

"Annabelle isn't here anymore to bother me about it," said Elizabeth.

"Even so." Mrs. Merriman turned to Felicity. "Now, would you like to accompany Miss Elizabeth back home?"

"I'd love to, Mother," replied Felicity.

"Then 'tis settled," Mrs. Merriman finished. Turning to Elizabeth once again, she said, "I take it your parents have received an invitation similar to ours, but you can ask. If you're going to attend, you all will have to prepare in advance tomorrow before tomorrow, because that's when we leave in the afternoon."

* * *

Felicity went about accompanying Elizabeth back to her home across the now lantern-lit streets. Both girls were locked in conversation about various domestic topics.

"How is French so far?" asked Felicity.

"About fine, I guess," answered Elizabeth with a bit of uncertainty. "I'm still having a bit of difficulty learning the pronunciations, as well as the structure." She mused a bit. "The pronunciations, especially, are dreadfully strange. 'Tis like speaking whilst pinching your nose. And…it does sound a bit funny," she finished with a suppressed giggle.

"Methinks I would be inclined to agree," concurred Felicity, chuckling to herself in playful banter.

"You almost always do," asseverated Elizabeth.

"What do you mean, 'might'? Felicity questioned her friend rather curiously.

"Well…" began Elizabeth in thought. "Here's another thing. Phillip and I are to go a-courting tonight."

Felicity smiled warmly. "That's wonderful, Elizabeth," she said in happy thought. "Do tell him I wish the best of luck."

Elizabeth smiled back in return. The girls continued ambling on the left side of Duke of Gloucester, shortly before making a left turn to Nicholson Street.

"So…what's Phillip up to now?" Felicity asked her friend. "Anything…interesting from your beloved beau?" she finished with an impish grin.

"He's still catching up with his studies at the College," rejoined Elizabeth. Phillip's current circumstance at the College of William and Mary was pretty hectic, given the amount of homework needed to be caught up.

"You will tell him about the invitation, won't you?" asked Felicity.

"Id be glad to," replied Elizabeth, "Though whether Phillip will be able to take some time off from his studies…is another thing. Times are a bit tough for him, but he's nearing the end of his study years at the College." Phillip had started his initial years at the College when he was fourteen. There was a bit of a delay during the war activities at the College were disrupted during the British takeover, so he was due to graduate when he was nineteen years of age.

"Mayhap the ball at Duffman Manor can be a bit of Phillip's graduation celebration," declared Felicity, grinning impishly again. Elizabeth giggled to herself at the idea, and Felicity joined merrily in the laughter over the idea as well.

"I suppose it could…" Elizabeth mused in a dreamy manner. Her avid blue eyes were gazing that the starry heavens of the early evening.

The girls continued ambling on their way in a leisurely manner until they were within spitting reach of the Cole residence.

"See you tomorrow, Elizabeth," called Felicity, as Elizabeth took her leave to the main walkway.

"Bye, Lissie," Elizabeth called back. "Hope to see you soon as well."

Felicity waved her right hand as Elizabeth disappeared back into her house.

* * *

In the upper level of the stable, Ben was stroking Felicity's flowing red hair in a rather playful and flirty manner. Both lovebirds were in their evening shifts, and their shoes were at the back of Ben's left bedside.

Felicity was lying back on Ben's loft bedding. Her hair was let down, making it easier for Ben to stroke it, and the captivating sensation made her lapse off into a dreamlike trance, with her eyes completely closed.

A soft rapping was heard on the stable door before being swung ajar. Who else could it be, but Mr. Edward Merriman, come to check on the affairs of his daughter and his apprentice. His dark auburn-brown hair gleamed in the hand-held lantern that he was holding on his left hand. He was still in his usual colonial business outfit. He was still fairly robust, even in his late 30s.

"Lissie, time for bed," he called softly.

Felicity heaved a disappointed sigh, knowing that their flirty hair-playing time had to be cut short immediately. "Yes, Father," she replied half-heartedly.

Mr. Merriman was a tad amused as he beckoned his eldest daughter out of the stable. "You'll get to have more chances with your beloved when the ball comes," he informed. "Now off to bed with you. Let's let Ben sleep. He'll need to assist me at the store with tying up a handful of loose ends before we can leave for Richmond, and I can't have him acting groggy all day.

Felicity nodded with a sigh as she took her leave of the stable. Ben was snickering to himself at the way Mr. Merriman was phrasing his witty talk. But that didn't mean he didn't take a fraction of time to blow back a kiss at his sweetheart, to which Felicity graciously returned the favor.

As Felicity ambled on the pathway in a haughty manner she daintily started patting and tapping the middle area of her firm bosom with both hands in the manner of a sensitive little girl dabbing her hands in ice-cold water.

"And you can stop playing with your bosom," said Mr. Merriman, as he took notice of Felicity's seemingly unladylike acting.

"Yes, Father," Felicity finished with an exasperated sigh. She pulled up and straightened out a bit of the low-cut end of the bodice of her gown in an energetic manner and the lifted up her petticoats a little to ease her fast-paced marathon back to the house.

* * *

A/N: Important Pronunciation Trivia: British children pronounce Mama as "Mamá", with the accent on the last syllable. You'll typically hear that type of pronunciation if you watch some British moves (most notably from BBC).


	3. Seventeenth Birthday

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 3

Seventeenth Birthday

It was a cool, crisp early April morning, as the glorious early morning sun shone in the room and bathed it in its gleaming sunlight. Yawning luxuriously, Felicity shrugged off her bed covers and jumped out of bed. Going to the back end of her room, she dabbed cold water on her face to wash it. Then she moseyed to her chair, where her regular vertically striped turquoise blue and plain white work gown, which was a bit mussed from some yesterday's housework, was hanging on, and slipped into it.

Felicity then rushed downstairs in a happy and excited mood, only to be greeted by Ben when she stepped into the parlor room.

"Happy birthday, Lissie," he said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Ben," Felicity replied sweetly in good cheer. Taking notice of him a little carefully, she arrived to a suspicion that Ben got something behind him.

"I seem to suspect that you've got something behind your back," she judged.

"Mm-hmm," Ben answered a mite tentatively. "As a matter of fact, I _have_ got something for you. For your…_seventeenth_ birthday, if I recall."

"Really?" Felicity inquired mirthfully. "Pray, do tell."

"From a practical standpoint, you could consider it both your birthday gift and your courtship gift."

"Let's see, then," finished Felicity in a playful but slightly crisp manner.

Ben affectionately handed Felicity a small square package wrapped up in brown paper and trim. Immediately after receiving the package, Felicity steadily tore off the paper, which revealed a scarlet red-carpeted container. Wanting to savor the moment of a courtship gift mystery, she slowly opened the box, inch by inch in a dramatic manner.

Revealed in the box was a locket with a gilded cord string. The entire surface was colored scarlet, almost blood-red-looking. What made the locket seem more significant to Felicity was the fact that its color was almost the same color as her fiery red hair. The smooth, straight top of the tiny jewel was crowned with an embossed letter L in an elegantly formed Edwardian cursive script, to which Felicity was quick to take notice of. She wondered whether Ben got the locket necklace by mistake, or whether Ben was just intentionally trying to tease her. But before she could complain about such aesthetic imperfections, courtesy demanded that she first thank the giver of the necklace itself. The necklace was purchased for her for her seventeenth birthday, which Ben was very generous to do before that day, given that most apprentices weren't usually paid much until they reached the point where they could be fluent in their craft.

When Felicity was in the midst of displaying exquisite gratitude to her beloved, she really meant it. She gasped in awe, her emerald-green eyes widened in euphoric wonder; a strong indication that her birthday present was taking a great appeal to her.

"Oh,…'tis so beautiful," she exclaimed sweetly, before turning to Ben. "May I inquire as to where you got it from?"

"Pratt's Jewelry Shop," Ben answered right away as best as he could. The Shop was located near the edge of Duke of Gloucester. It was owned and operated by Harold Pratt, one of Williamsburg's finest and jewelers, whose reputation was fairly honest, and his teenage son, Arthur.

"Since your mother couldn't get ahold of additional pearls for your choker, I thought I should do my part for you in giving you a good luck charm," Ben explained. That said, he took the locket and walked up behind Felicity. Affectionately he slid the locket on her neck and clasped the strings together. Then he kissed her on her right cheek as well. For Felicity, the sensation was dreamy, and it made her feel loved the most, and she wished it could last as long as she wanted it to.

"Ohhh, Ben," she intimated dreamily, beaming a warm smile at her beloved. "This…this is beautiful."

Taking hold of the locket with her right hand, she glanced at it briefly, studying it again. Then she looked up at Ben.

"Why does the locket have the letter L?" she inquired, trying not to sound too ungrateful.

"It stands for your nickname, Lissie-dear," rejoined Ben.

Felicity chuckled a little hesitantly in reply in an effort to maintain some sort of façade of gratitude, which for the time being, persuaded Ben in thinking that his Lissie really took a fond liking for the locket necklace. "But…I wonder whether it should be an 'F' instead," she pondered. "After all, my proper name is indeed 'Felicity'."

Ben tried to join in the mild merriment, despite feeling a bit miffed over some aesthetic comment of a courtship gift. After all, the locket was bought from the jewelry shop out of his own pocket money, and for a gift to be criticized tactlessly by the recipient was something he didn't take a liking to. "You weren't that much for properness, Lissie," he tried to explain. "Besides, don't you think the L is prettier? And wonderfully affectionate? Not to mention that red is your favorite color."

"Well, bright red, as opposed to scarlet red," said Felicity.

Ben heaved a fairly none-audible sigh. It was at this point that Felicity realized that Ben was feeling miffed by her seemingly mild complaints. Surely she had to find some way of keeping her beloved with her, despite all odds.

"Ben, please don't think I'm being ungrateful," she said to him pleadingly in a soulful manner. "I like this necklace; I really do. Honestly." She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Ben's heart was now moved by her now genuine appreciation for all the trouble he went into getting this locket, especially since it was bought for her out of love. "'Tis very beautiful. You could not have gotten a finer gift than this." She looked Ben in the face and radiated her blossoming beauty with a warm smile. "Thank you," she said softly.

Ben smiled back a bit forcefully. "You're…you're most welcome," he replied, trying not to sound too stiff for Felicity's sake.

There was a five-second pause before Ben gave his explanation of the gift.

"'Twas the best I could afford, given that I still have to serve three more years with your father," he said to her.

Felicity gave her courting beloved a soulful beholding. "You have given this gift out of sincere love for me, Ben," she said to him. "And that is what matters far more than any expensive and extravagant gift money can buy." With that she planted an affectionate kiss on Ben's left cheek. "I shall always treasure this necklace…, if you remain faithful to me."

And both Ben and Felicity smiled at each other and looked deep into each other's eyes. Indeed, they were a couple in love. Time seemed to slow down whenever that love trance took hold of them, where they could forget all worries and just focus on the pleasure of keeping their gaze locked on each other for all eternity to come.

And she would cherish the thought of how the letter L would reflect the sweet affections of her nickname.

The love trance was broken when Mrs. Merriman came downstairs, huffing over the seeming lack of punctuality with her eldest daughter and fiancé.

"Gracious! What's _with_ you two lovebirds?" she huffed. "Stop dawdling and get ready! We shall be leaving around the early noon!"

"Oh dear," Felicity concurred seriously, while appearing to remain composed, while inside her, she was experiencing a sensation of flutters in her stomach over the thought of messing up the plans for the Duffman ball. Felicity often dreamed of going to another ball with her beloved Ben, and she didn't want to mess things up.

"I have to go," said Felicity right away." Without another word she immediately rushed back to her bedchamber to get ready for the trip. Ben simply shrugged and ambled back the stairs and into the master bedroom to ask Mrs. Merriman about some adequate dress clothes.

"Have you any clean dress clothes?" he asked.

"Um…I don't know, Ben," said Mrs. Merriman in a hurry. She and Rose were busy folding gowns as neatly as they could in a limited span of time. "See of you can borrow a suit of clothes from Mr. Merriman in the wardrobe for the time being."

Ben goggled at the idea of having to borrow a suit of clothes from Mr. Merriman. Mr. Merriman was body build was a bit larger and more robust than Ben, whose build was as lanky as before, and Ben doubted whether he could ever fit into Mr. Merriman's clothes. Seeing as he had no option when everyone else was in a hurry to leave the house on time, he rushed to the armoire, propped the cabinet doors open with his strong arms, and sifted hurriedly through the neatly folded stack of breeches, shifts, and waistcoats in a rather untidy manner. Long tailcoats were hung on the upper underside of the wardrobe itself, beside the folded clothes stack.

Ben continued sifting through the folded clothes stack until he found a clean shift, an adequate-looking dark green coat, some green breeches, and white stockings. The fortunate part was that he had his shoes. It would have been an agonizing ordeal for Ben to fit into Mr. Merriman's shoes.

"Have you managed to find something adequate?" asked Mrs. Merriman.

"Couldn't say," answered Ben. "Can one white shift and a suit of clothes in dark green do the job?"

"I should think so," said Mrs. Merriman, as she folded up a few of the last gowns and shifts and stacked them into a large traveling trunk.

"My gratitude to you, Mrs. Merriman," complimented Ben.

"Hurry up and get dressed, then."

Without another word, Ben got himself changed into Mr. Merriman's clothes.

"Do they fit?" asked Mrs. Merriman.

Ben looked at himself from top to the bottom. "I look fine," was all he could say.

Mrs. Merriman got up from her folding and proceeded to straighten out both the waistcoat and tailcoat.

"Well, if you keep this coat straightened out, you'll turn out decent," she said.

"I hope…" said Ben, heaving a wry sigh over the idea of being fussed over for respectable appearance, especially by Mrs. Merriman. "Now 'twould be most prudent to help Mr. Merriman out with the store affairs while he readies the carriage."

"Right-o. But I'd want to see how Lissie is taking a liking to the birthday gift I bought her," said Ben half-jokingly.

"Well, don't barge into her bedchamber while she's dressing," called Mrs. Merriman huffily, taking Ben at his word. "'Twould be most rude."

"Yes, Mrs. Merriman," Ben called back. It didn't take long for the younger girls, Nan and Polly, to bring forth comments about his new Merriman outfit. He immediately stopped in his tracks along the stairway, just a few steps from the hardwood floor when the commentaries took place.

"I do say you look…a little funny…in green," Nan remarked a little shyly.

Ben just sighed crossly in response. "Ladies…, really," he protested with desperate hand gestures as courtesy within the household would allow.

"I wasn't making fun of it," said Nan innocently.

"Nor was I," put in Polly.

Ben rushed out of the hall and out of the house without another word. Not that he was completely offended by the remarks. Far from it; though at times he could get a little miffed over criticism of his appearance. He was just more annoyed than offended, basically speaking.

When Ben was not around, both Nan and Polly decided to make their own gossip of his recent appearance in the temporal privacy of the parlor room.

"Ben does look a bit funny, but not that much," said Polly.

"Well, I shall agree with you on that one," said Nan.

* * *

Ben was making his rush to the Merriman General Store to tend to his duties. It was a cool, fresh April morning, suitably ideal for Felicity's birthday, which took place in the spring, her favorite time of the year. The bright morning sunlight penetrated the light mist. The town looked as though it were waking up form a long beauty sleep of prolonged recovery. Business about the town was in its gradual flourishing stage, with the shops slowly coming back to life. Passersby and horse-drawn carriages walked to and fro past Ben, with an occasional enthusiastic greeting of acknowledgement.

Picking up his usual regular pace, Ben made a marathon to the Merriman General Store to tend to his routine duties. By the time he arrived, Mr. Merriman was busying himself at the counter, examining and writing on his ledger-book.

"Good day, sir," Ben greeted.

"Ah, yes. Good day, Mr. Davidson," Mr. Merriman greeted his young apprentice in a professional, yet fatherly manner of speech.

"What next to do, sir?" asked Ben enthusiastically.

"The crates are in serious need of stacking, and the carriage needs to be prepared. While I see to the carriage, you will see to the crates."

"Seems simple enough," Ben concurred, before he started picking up a crate of preserves, musing over where the hell to stack them. Mr. Merriman on the other hand was examining his apprentice's appearance, making curious glances at him, which made Ben a mite uncomfortable.

"That looks to be my clothes," remarked Mr. Merriman in a half-joking manner.

"Well, what else was there?" asked Ben, putting the crate down. "'Twas all a hurry."

"Hope they fit."

"They do. Just takes a bit of getting used to."

Mr. Merriman made a rather wry face. "You'll be fine," he assured his young apprentice. Whatever fears Ben would have about self-consciousness would abate in time after a lengthy period of getting used to wearing his master's clothes. "Now…let's get those crates unpacked and I want you to stack whatever's in those crates accordingly on the shelves while I tend to the carriage preparations."

"Will do, sir." Ben still kept wondering to himself whether his right arm would tolerate the weight, given his bullet hole near the armpit.

Mr. Merriman slapped his right hand over Ben's left shoulder in a manly manner. "Good lad. I shouldn't be long."

Mr. Merriman took his leave of the store, leaving Ben to his work.


	4. Departure

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 4

Departure

The last of a handful of belongings were packed onto the carriage top by both Ben and Marcus. Adding to the finishing touch was the secure strapping of the baggage, as well as the secure hitching of the horses, which were done by their strong hands.

Marcus was the first to see Mr. Merriman emerging from the front doorway toting an elaborately decorated green and black rectangular suitcase.

"All set, Mas'r Merriman?" called Marcus.

"Aye," Mr. Merriman answered, panting in an attempt to recover his breath. When Mr. Merriman brought the suitcase near the carriage, Marcus took it off Mr. Merriman's hands and shoved it unceremoniously into the back of the carriage.

"So far, so good," Mr. Merriman continued, in answering Marcus' considerate query. "We're pretty much settled now." He took a deep breath. "You have my thanks, Marcus."

Marcus started taking notice a bit about Mr. Merriman's health. "You all right?" he asked rather huffily.

"Aye," answered Mr. Merriman a little wearily. "Just getting a mite of gray hair is all." Mr. Merriman could tell that Marcus was worrying about him a little bit, since he was a very good master to Marcus himself, and Marcus wanted to repay some bit of respect to him. Mr. Merriman's stress and worries during the war had taken a fairly large toll on his health; something he hadn't fully recovered from, even a year after the war itself. But in spite of all that, he tried his best to assure Marcus. "I'll be fine," he assured him, as he slapped his hand manfully over Marcus' left shoulder.

Seconds later, the Merriman children piled out excitedly and noisily out of the front entrance on their way to the carriage. Felicity was gaily holding Nan's right hand, and William was hyperactively trailing around the older girls. Polly, on the other hand, was making her wound up dash to the carriage and Marcus opened the carriage door for her like a normal gentleman, allowing the rest of the Merriman children to pile in and take their respective seating positions.

At the doorway, Mr. Merriman, dressed in her appropriate traveling clothes, was going through last-minute instructions with Rose.

"…Just deal with the curtains for now. They're the ones that need further dusting. Also, the silverware might do with a bit of sheen."

Rose nodded, taking every word she could possibly afford to take."

"And try not to overwork yourself or you won't be of much use around the house if you're over-exhausted," Mrs. Merriman called out after Rose.

"Right'm," Rose called back hurriedly.

With a light smile, Mrs. Merriman took leave of the house, with Rose waving after her, and Mrs. Merriman returning the favor as she approached the carriage.

"Edward, what will Ben do?" asked Mrs. Merriman, concerned about Ben's well-being.

"Why, dear, he'll be following us on horseback, riding Penny," answered Mr. Merriman congenially.

"Dear, dear," worried Mrs. Merriman. "Are you sure Penny can still take the load?" Penny had gone through a lot of traveling since Mr. Merriman's commissary duties during the war.

"Penny is a strong, thoroughbred horse, Martha," assured Mr. Merriman, trying to be as considerate as he could. "Don't worry. And tell Lissie not to worry, either." He cleared his throat. "In fact, I would suspect, as Lissie would, too, that the exercise is good for her."

"And what about you, Edward?" Mrs. Merriman queried further with her husband.

"Oh. I'll be following the carriage on Blossom," Mr. Merriman answered his wife pretty confidently. "She can still take the load." Old Bess, the other family horse, was getting to be a mite too old and too slow to keep up with the long traveling.

Mrs. Merriman nodded her head once, hoping that some concerns in her mind about Edward, Ben, and Penny were for the most part settled. "All right. I'll take your word. Do be sure to look after Ben, too."

"I always do." With that, Mr. Merriman kissed his wife on her right cheek, and Mrs. Merriman did the same. Then she stepped into the carriage and Mr. Merriman shut the doors.

"Drive on!" ordered Mr. Merriman.

The driver tugged the reins, and the carriage was off.

"Bye, Rose! Bye, Marcus!" the children called out.

"Bye, y'all," Rose called back. "Stay safe! An' don't y'all hurt the lot o' yourselves!"

The carriage continued speeding off and disappeared in a trail of dust.

* * *

Standing on the right side of the road to the direction of Nassau Street and the end of the Palace Green, Mr. Merriman and Ben watched the carriage drift off to the end of the dirt road.

"What?" asked Ben, feigning a flabbergasted mood. "They…they can't just _leave_ us!"

Mr. Merriman just laughed. "C'mon, son. Let's get our horses ready."

* * *

Both Mr. Merriman and Ben hurried briskly to the stables and fetched the necessary effects to equip Penny and Blossom.

"I could have rode, you know," said Ben.

"What? With the girls?" asked Mr. Merriman. "Come on, Ben. You're a man. Do you want others to think that you're effeminate?"

"That is a cruel joke to play on me, Mr. Merriman," said Ben, playfully wagging a finger at Mr. Merriman.

"No joke intended, son. Why would you want to ride with them?"

"Because I'm tired, and I'm lazy."

"Well, that's not good."

Ben had just finished strapping the bit and bridle on Penny. "Couldn't you ride with them?" he asked Mr. Merriman.

"I wasn't sure entirely whether there would be enough room in the carriage. And besides, Mrs. Merriman told me to look after _you_."

Ben chuckled. "Mr. Merriman, I do believe that _you_, of all people, know that I'm fairly capable of looking after myself."

"Well…" Mr. Merriman replied, giving his reply some train of thought, "Mrs. Merriman was concerned…and most likely, I, that _you_ would probably run away again…if given the opportunity."

"Wha…" Ben stammered. "Run…"

Mr. Merriman just beamed manfully to his young apprentice, in a bit of a joking manner. He still never forgot the time when Ben ran away to join Washington's army when he was sixteen years of age.

"Besides, Lissie wouldn't like it if you got hurt…again. And _she_ would never forgive _me_ for letting you wander off…again. You know how she's in love with you."

"And me with her," Ben finished right away.

"Exactly," concurred Mr. Merriman briefly. "Let's relieve them of their worries."

After securing the harness, Mr. Merriman and Ben mounted their horses.

"I guess this is where the fun begins," concurred Ben.

Tugging the reins, both master and apprentice galloped out of the stables and onto Duke of Gloucester in their attempts to catch up with the speeding Merriman carriage.

* * *

The horse-drawn carriage was rolling by pretty smoothly as Felicity wistfully looked out of the window, soaking up all the sights of greenery. Most likely this was not her first time that she ever traveled anywhere out of Williamsburg; the very first time she ever did was when she was kidnapped by British agents in for the purposes of them finding out about the whereabouts of Ben, due to his occupation as a sergeant in the Fifth Regiment, whom the British feared the most, due to their guerilla activities. But now, Felicity could enjoy traveling outside Williamsburg peacefully.

"What time is it, Mother?" she asked, turning her head.

"I would suspect the time to be ten in the morning, I dare say," replied Mrs. Merriman in a fairly pleasant manner.

As Ben passes by the carriage, Felicity watches Ben, wishing to herself rather wistfully that she were the one riding on Penny.

* * *

The carriage rolled past scenes of beautiful Virginia greenery; making it a pleasant earthly paradise. Past dirt roads and cobblestone roads of various towns and villages, whether they were smooth or rutted the carriage the carriage went; as though it were determined to get to its destination as fast as it could. Both Mr. Merriman and Ben were on horseback behind the carriage itself, ready to spring into action in case something happened.

The entire journey from Williamsburg to Richmond would take an entire day. However, due to the toleration limits of Mrs. Merriman and the children of being able to stay cooped up in the carriage for long, and give that it wasn't all that safe to be traveling at night, especially with little children present, prudence dictated that the entire family spend the night at a lodging area. And so around the beginning of the late evening, the Merrimans took temporary residence at a local in at the roadside.

The next day, after thanking their host graciously, they took their leave in the early spring morning and continued on their way to Richmond.

* * *

During the rest of the trip, the children were already fast asleep, including Mrs. Merriman herself. Nan took to leaning over Felicity's right side, with Felicity holding her arms around her younger sister. William and Polly took to leaning on their mother's side, encompassed under her wing.

Outside, Mr. Merriman and Ben kept following the carriage, fairly alert, but nonetheless relaxed, with both Penny and Blossom kept their speed at a canter.

In a few minutes around mid-afternoon, the first sight of the city of Richmond could be seen from the view of the hilly countryside. Both Ben and Mr. Merriman could recognize the city outlines; Ben could recognize it because his Fifth Regiment volunteers had been in the city for various military activities, and Mr. Merriman could recognize it due to his commissary involvement during the war.

"Shall I wake them?" Ben asked Mr. Merriman.

"Go on right ahead."

Galloping Penny at a fast pace, he rolled to the port side of the carriage and started rapping at the window. Twice.

"Lissie, Lissie, we're nearing Richmond!" he cried.

The loud rapping sound was enough to wake Mrs. Merriman nearly out of her wits. Her only reaction was a sleepy "Good gracious, what is that?" uttered from her mouth.

It did not take long for Felicity to roll down the window so she could see what on earth the ruckus Ben was making was all about. That action also roused Nan a bit from her slumber as well.

"Why, Lissie, I'm mighty glad you're awake," Ben complimented.

"Why Ben," began Felicity, who was now half-awake. "Whatever gave you the urge to wake us up…"

"From your beauty sleep?" Ben cut in. "Lissie, don't you see? We're nearing Richmond?"

"Really?"

"Aye."

"Richmond?" cut in Mrs. Merriman, as she found herself being leaned on by the little mites, unable to believe a word.

"That's right, Mrs. Merriman," Ben answered.

Wasting no time, Mrs. Merriman roused the little ones from their sleep. "William, Polly, wake up. We're nearly there." Both William and Polly were being roused from sleep.

With nothing further to say, Ben veered off to the left of the carriage and galloped at the lead.

"Ben, be gentle with Penny," called Felicity.

An average of ten minutes had passed before the Merrimans were in the boundaries of the city. From there it did not take long for the entire family to enter the grand metropolis.

The entire city was almost grandiose and prosperous as a whole. The place was almost like Williamsburg, but nearly grand in aesthetics. The whole place was bustling with activity like it had almost never bustled before during the course of the war. Strapping, fashionable gentlemen and beautiful, well-dressed ladies in elegant and modest-looking gowns of all classes slid past the carriage like a flowing river. The cobblestone streets and dry dirt streets glistened in the bathing afternoon sunlight.

For Mrs. Merriman and the children, who haven't been out of town often as Ben and Mr. Merriman were, the very sight of the city itself was just so overwhelming to take into their minds.

The city of Richmond had just been officially deemed the capital of Virginia two years ago, back in 1780, at the behest of Governor Thomas Jefferson, whose administrative duties were managed in that particular town. Jefferson had concerns that Virginia's former capital city, Williamsburg, would be vulnerable to British attack from the James River, which would for the most part explain his decision to move Virginia's capital city further inland. A year ago, almost the entire city was burned by British troops under the command of General Benedict Arnold, who had just joined the British side due to some personal quarrels between him and General Washington. It was quite surprising that the city itself was able to recover shortly, revitalizing itself adequately to its former glory, and despite having a few certain areas within the city undergoing physical reconstruction of buildings formerly made victim to the fires of the British, the city itself was thriving once again.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Lissie?" asked Ben.

"Why, yes, of course," answered Felicity, feeling dazzled at the urban sights.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," laughed the coach driver humorously with a mischievous grin.

* * *

A/N (1): The one-day estimate of the Merrimans' trip from Williamsburg to Richmond was derived from the information of walking distance and time on Google Maps. According to Google Maps, the walking distance is approximately 49.0 mi. The approximate time is 16 hrs and 10 min. However, that assumes that the Merriman family is traveling non-stop, logistics have to be taken into account regarding how long Mrs. Merriman and the children can tolerate being cooped up in the carriage, so as a result, the journey is extended for at least two days minimum.

A/N (2): I wasn't entirely sure whether I should include the part about Felicity being kidnapped by British agents.


	5. Temporary Residence In Richmond

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 5

Temporary Residence In Richmond

The East End of Richmond was where Duffman Manor was situated. East End had a pleasant, panoramic view of the James River, which was usually tranquil during a sunny afternoon with a mild breeze.

Duffman Manor was built primarily out of soft-gray stones, much like the ancestral mansions back in the Old World. The mansion itself was graced with English style, and was very English in appearance. It had eight windows gracing the second floor, and six at the first floor, with the entranceway situated in the middle. Four windows were on the each side, both on the first and second tiers. A chimney topped the middle of the roof area. The house itself was almost similar to the house the Coles lived in back at Williamsburg.

At the front area of Duffman Manor was a large, circular lawn, where drilling of Continental regulars took place during regular hours of the day. Hence, it was not all that surprising to take sight of a lot of military drilling taking place on that particular spot, as with the case of a Continental regiment of twenty young, clean, spiffed, trainee regulars in line, armed with their Land Pattern muskets. The trainees looked and acted professionally trained, carrying out the various orders of their commanding officer, a uniformed, middle-age, battle-hardened man who strutted past his regimental line formation to their left direction, his hands crossed behind him like a haughty man of unlimited authority.

"Fix bayonets!" He ordered sharply and right away. The regulars quickly unsheathed their bayonets from their sheathes on their left sides. Each of them hooked his bayonet on the barrel of his Brown Bess.

"Shoulder arms!"

The regulars quickly shouldered their arms on their right side. The entire performance was done with great efficiency, as if the entire unit was one man.

"Present arms!"

The regulars raised their muskets together and aimed them at a frontal direction, towards the haystack targets with neatly-painted bulls-eyes in bright red. By the time that step was done the officer was already on the left side of the regimental form now, overseeing the training business. During that process, the Merriman carriage and the two men on horseback were making their pass by on their left side as they made a turn on a curb circling to the left.

"Fire!"

The regulars unleashed a volley of musket fire that almost sounded as though it were firing a single shot. The accuracy on those targets were pretty average; a handful, however, were able to get their shots fairly close to the center of the bulls-eye.

Given that Mrs. Merriman and the children were a few meters in distance from where the regulars were drilling, the musket fire didn't startle them a bit. Felicity, however, was finding the whole drilling to be a fascination for her, much to her mother's disapproval; though it was mild in the sense that she was fairly used to her eldest daughter's tomboyish characteristics, though she did in most circumstances try to keep her daughter in line.

By the time that part of the drill was done, the Merrimans' carriage had made its arrival to Duffman Manor and had parked at the front of the Manor house. A formal-looking squad of soldiers of the Continental army was marching past the Merriman's carriage. Both Ben and Mr. Merriman tipped their hats in respect to the officer in the lead, and the officer hastily returned the favor. Then after dismounting Penny, Ben proceeded to the carriage, opened carriage's the starboard door like a true gentleman, and gave assistance to Mrs. Merriman out of her carriage in the form of extending his hand for her to hold. Hen then did the same with the younger girls. But a bit of ceremony was put in on his part when it came to helping Felicity out of the carriage as well.

While Ben was in the midst of helping Mrs. Merriman and the children out of the carriage, Mr. Merriman took it upon himself to get the attention of the Duffmans as courtesy would allow. In a fluent manner, he took hold of the classically masterly-carved crescent shield-shaped door knocker and rapped it twice on the door itself.

Seconds later, a well-polished, but thin-lipped and pompously-acting footman with a face nearly as pale as ice, due to inordinate indoor exposure, and a moderately powdered wig answered the call.

"Good day, sir," the footman greeted in a bored voice with a British lilt.

"Ah, yes…good day, _sir_," Mr. Merriman greeted back. He prepared himself for his diplomatic intro. "As you know, my name is Mr. Edward Merriman, the owner of one of Williamsburg's affluent general stores…"

"Yes, yes, yes; do take it upon yourself to save your egotistical descriptions of being so that we can get on to the matter of importance," the footman said unenthusiastically.

Mr. Merriman, being a gentleman, found being interrupted to be not only rude, but also a nuisance. "I was about to do that, sir," he answered, trying to control his anger in the process of keeping a cool head."

"Oh." The footman's answer was very curt. "Then perhaps you can tell me what the purpose of your visit is."

"Very well." Mr. Merriman cleared his throat. "Actually, 'tis more than just a mere visit. As you might hopefully be aware of, the Honorable Lord and Lady Duffman have just invited us…and another family that goes by the name, Cole…to spend the night at her dwelling place."

"Lady Duffman told you that, you say?"

"Of course."

"Then perhaps you would be kind enough to show me in written form that she did give you such permission."

"As you wish, sir." Mr. Merriman thrust his hand into his right coat pocket and pulled out the Duffman Ball invitation that his wife handed him before the trip. "Here 'tis."

The footman unfolded the paper and read it through quickly. After his visual review, he folded back the paper and handed it back to Mr. Merriman.

"All right," he said finally. "I'll inform the Lady Duffman that you're spending the night at this…this Duffman Manor."

"Agreed," answered Mr. Merriman. "Indeed, I should thank her in person if I see her and her husband."

"'Twould be well for you to do, sir," said the footman. "The Lady Duffman is at home; however, it seems that Lord Duffman is away on some sort of business errand."

"You could say the same about me, too," put in Mr. Merriman. Such frequent absences from his family were almost commonplace during the war in his commissary activities. "Though I do not think I should divulge the details at this moment."

"Um…yes. Interesting as they might seem, there doesn't seem to be a lot of time to invest in such matters. Well, bring your family in."

"Right away, sir." Mr. Merriman stopped himself short as he took into account the traveling carriage. "Also, would there be some sort of lodging for our carriage and horses, if 'tis not to much to ask?"

"A servant will be there to care for the horses…Mr. Merriman. Soon."

The footman made a slow, relaxing, deep bow. Bowing back quickly but a bit awkwardly, Mr. Merriman turned around and headed to get his family together as the footman pushed the right-hand entrance door open for the Merrimans to get through. Another servant dressed in the same clothes as the footman himself emerged from the house to tend to the carriage and horses, as the footman said he would.

The Merrimans made their heading to the mansion and stepped inside. The footman closed the door. A large banging sound could be heard as the footman locked the doors.

They were now in a regal waiting hall. The waiting hall of Duffman Manor was twenty-five feet long, sixteen fee wide, and fifteen feet high. The double-door entranceway was seven feet long and eight feet high, with each door having a variety of elegantly carved panels of picturesque details. An imposing semi-arcular arch-holder with glass in-between the intricately cut spaces arched over the grand doorway.

Two rather imposing paintings as wide as one of the doors themselves and possessing half the tallness of the walls were hung very near the entranceway at opposite ends. At both sides of the hall nearest the doorway and paintings were two wooden mahogany lowboys, the right one having a chine ornate-decorated bowl perched like a king over its one-inch mica block mat. An elegantly curved wooden mahogany frame settee bedded with an almost worn seating cushion and decked with two square-foot scatter cushions with pink roses embroidered was situated near the settee. An elegant Windsor mahogany chair was at the left side of the left hand furniture piece relative from facing the grand entranceway. The hall itself was lined with smooth-polished, soft-gray marble slabs.

"You will be shown right away to your assigned rooms," the footman announced. "This way, please," he commanded, pointing himself to the direction of the stairway that started from the foyer. As the footman proceeded upstairs, Polly was starting to stray away from Mrs. Merriman's side.

"No, no, no, Polly, not this way," Mrs. Merriman whispered firmly to her youngest as she took little Polly's hand to put a stop to her from wandering around the house. Polly made a rather pouty face as she was led by her mother along with the rest of the family. Curiosity of the manor house overwhelmed her that she just couldn't find it in herself to keep herself on her best behavior.

The group reached the second room, and the footman led the Merriman family to the left wing of Duffman Manor house until they approached a tall dark-green, dark-brown door. Nimbly the footman fished out a half-tarnished bronze key and inserted it into the lock. The lock gave way, and the footman opened the door with a gentle manner, save for a light, homely squeaky sound that the half-lubricated door hinges were making.

"This is one of our finest rooms,…sir," the footman complimented quite briskly.

"Huh," replied Mr. Merriman, having nothing else to say at the moment. But inside him, his mind was overwhelmed by the grandness of the bedroom itself. Not even he and Mr. Merriman had a bedroom as grand as that in their home.

The room was fifteen feet in length, nine feet in width, and nine feet in height. The doorway was located at the right-hand corner of the room relative from looking at the front part of the manor house. A fireplace was at the left side of the doorway relative to facing the entranceway wall, with a painting on top of the fireplace aw well, and chair near the left hand of the fireplace, too.

A four-post chintz-covered king-sized bed was situated at the back end of the room relative to the front side of the west wing section. A window was situated at the left side of the room relative to the near end, and a mahogany lowboy was beside the window on its right side, along with a mahogany-colored clothespress situated at the front end of the room, where the window was. A large dressing table was positioned at the opposite end of the room relative to facing the entranceway wall, and perched on top of the dressing table was a large, oval-shaped vanity mirror.

A colorfully embroidered carpet steeped in cream and dark colors spread out on the middle of the room, gracing the bedchamber itself, with its hard-wood oak floor.

Beside the left-hand side of the bed was another dark mahogany-colored lowboy dresser, with a silver candlestick and candle perched at the lower left-hand corner of the dresser's surface. A small hard-cover handbook titled _Essays to do Good_, which were written by a New England Puritan theologian Cotton Mather long ago, was perched beside the right-hand side of the candlestick. Not that anyone in the Southern Colonies would care to read a book like that anyway.

"Oh, my God," squeaked Felicity in a rather unladylike manner, overwhelmed at such grandiose if not seemingly antiquated surroundings. "'Tis so…so beautiful, I can hardly wait to jump in!"

"Now, now, Lissie, hold your horses," said Mr. Merriman with a light chuckle to herself. But overwhelmed with excitement, Felicity dashed happily into the room like an excited little girl and plopped herself on the bed, going roly-poly all over the bed until she fell on the floor, bumping herself.

"Wow, that's got to hurt," remarked Ben.

"I want to see more of the house," demanded Polly.

"That is possible," agreed the footman. "However, bear in mind that some of the house rooms are usually kept locked, but some are left unlocked, so…"

Polly made a face at the footman.

"Hmm…" the footman said to himself thoughtfully, before getting an idea into his head. "Right, then," he announced, as he proceeded to give the Merrimans a further tour of the house.

"Oh, can I stay in this room for a little while, Mother?" asked Felicity longingly. "Please?"

"As long as you can keep yourself restrained a bit before you start breaking something," said Mr. Merriman. The Merrimans followed the footman to wherever he lead them around the second and third floor.

* * *

After exploring the guest bedroom to her heart's content, Felicity wandered around the upstairs hall in a cautious manner, though heart was overflowing with curious excitement with what else lay in the Manor house. Slowly she tiptoed to another one of the rooms that overlooked the front courtyard. There she witnessed a black-green carriage arriving. A man, a woman, and a teenage girl her age stepped out of the carriage, and from the top view, a bit of the girl's wavy blonde could be seen peeking out of her fairly broad, straw hat, with her mobcap underneath covering her head.

Felicity observed this little family carefully. Who else could it be, but…?

Then suddenly it dawned on Felicity's mind. _Elizabeth! _Felicity thought to herself in happy excitement. Without another thought she rushed downstairs to the main entrance, opened the left double door and rushed outside the steps to greet her best friend.

But Felicity knew that she had to remember her best manners, if she didn't want her mother to chide her again for being thoughtless about them. Carefully but almost hastily she made a curtsy to the Coles, and then to Elizabeth.

"Lissie!" exclaimed Elizabeth happily. Both girls happily embraced each other to the point of squeezing before looking at each other.

"My goodness, Elizabeth," said Felicity, while catching her breath. "Even with your elegant charms, you look…pretty disheveled."

Elizabeth laughed. "I was running around a bit, I suppose." She responded rather gaily.

No moment was wasted for Felicity with getting her best friend acquainted with her surroundings. "Come on!" she exclaimed excitedly, tugging at her friend's arm. "I'll show you around upstairs!"

With that, the merriest girls in Virginia headed off to the manor house in hasty manner.

Mrs. Catherine Cole just looked at her husband John a little warmly but not too coldly as they both headed to the house as well. The carriage departed by the time Mr. and Mrs. Cole had taken the first few steps to the entranceway of the Duffman Manor house.

* * *

Both Felicity and Elizabeth were rushing upstairs in giggly excitement, gabbing over trivial miscellanies that came in their overlapping conversations. Felicity wasted no time in showing her friend around the second floor, until she finally showed her the room in which the Coles were assigned. The Coles' guest room was next door near the Merrimans' assigned guest room, and was pretty much like that of the Merrimans, but even the grandness of it all was enough to overwhelm Elizabeth as well.

Oh, my goodness, Lissie… murmured Elizabeth, almost unable to contain herself.

"What?" Felicity asked her friend with an impish grin.

"'Tis so elegant!" concurred Elizabeth. She turned to her best friend. "I dare say, the settings just remind me of London."

Felicity chuckled to herself. "I'm sure it does," she agreed wholeheartedly.

Elizabeth immediately took her friend's hand. "Lissie, do tell me," she importuned. "Have you ever been to a grand mansion like this before?"

"Um…no. Not really," answered Felicity a bit hesitantly, her voice trailing off. Suddenly she became alert at the thought, for it provoked her to ask that same question to her friend as well. "What about you?" she asked Elizabeth. "Have _you_ been in one?"

"Of course," answered Elizabeth, as she took her hand off Felicity's before soaking in the sights of the room as eagerly as she could. "We used to live in one, back when we were in Lancaster before we came here." Lancaster was Elizabeth's hometown back in England, and was geographically located at the northwest end of Lancashire County, which was situated on the mid-west end of the British mainland. Lancaster was fairly rural, not as huge a city as London was, but it was Elizabeth's home, and Elizabeth still missed it. It was fairly near London, which was why Elizabeth said that she and her family were from London in general.

Of course, Felicity had some idea as to what Elizabeth's vision was like, given that she had been to Elizabeth's house on numerous occasions since her childhood years. But she was trying to get specificity out of Elizabeth's brief one-sentence story. "Your family, you mean?" she queried, her inflection down.

"Aye," replied Elizabeth. She gave the matter some brief thought before resuming her reply. "But when we decided to move here, we decided to sell the house because Father wanted to try his prospects here in the Colonies."

"So what happened to the house, then?" Felicity enjoined rather curiously.

"I wish I knew," said Elizabeth. Meaning that she had no idea as to what happened to the family residence back in London.

There was brief silence in the room before the conversation resumed. Elizabeth decided to recap the conversation by stating the what-ifs.

"But if we didn't come over to the Colonies, I would not have been able to meet…" She pointed to Felicity rather playfully. "…_You_."

Felicity laughed out loud gaily. "Aye, that is true, she agreed.

The joyful mood was interrupted for the girls when Mrs. Cole was calling her daughter outside the room. Mr. Cole was present with her.

"Elizabeth," Mrs. Cole called.

Elizabeth turned around to face who was calling her. She was a bit out of her wits at this seemingly unexpected calling on her part. Then judging by the sound of the voice she knew it was her mother.

"Coming, Mama," she answered.

Without another word, Elizabeth flounced out of the room, leaving her friend in a state of perplexity. Felicity wondered at the back of her head what on earth Mr. and Mrs. Cole could possibly want with Elizabeth at such a time like this.

Little would the Merrimans and the Coles become aware that Duffman Manor had some interesting history behind it during the war.

* * *

Evening twilight had already made its descent over capital city of Richmond. On the second floor, Mr. and Mrs. Merriman were conversing quietly with each other in whispering on their way back to their bedroom. Mr. Merriman was holding a lighted candle on tarnished silver candlestick holder.

"Edward, are you sure about this?" Mrs. Merriman asked her husband rather anxiously. "Having Ben sleep alone? Surely he's had enough of that at home; especially during his years in the army."

"Would you prefer him to sleep on the cold, hard floor, Martha?" asked Mr. Merriman. "Or the dirt grounds?" He cleared his throat. "Even if I were to allow him in our room, there wouldn't be enough room on the beds." He considered for a moment. "Unless he can move an entire bedpost to our room from his." Felicity, Nan, William, and Polly had taken up most of the room in a bedroom bed, leaving little room for Ben, unless Ben wanted to sleep on the floor, or move a bed on his own, which, of course, was his call if he wanted to sleep with the rest of the family.

Mrs. Merriman gave her husband's reply a bit of thought. "Well," she continued determinedly. "I suspect that that is going to change if he's ever intent on marrying our Lissie."

"Most likely," Mr. Merriman agreed. "Perhaps, I suspect, Ben wants some time to himself to think things over decisions that will greatly affect his entire life."

"Would that I know Ben had plenty of that since the early start of his recuperation back home," Mrs. Merriman declared rather wryly.

Mr. Merriman sighed. "Martha," he replied, "Even eight months, I'm afraid, wouldn't be enough time. Even I am still in the midst of thinking over these decisions myself, especially that Ben still has three more years with me in his apprenticeship."

In silence, both Mr. and Mrs. Merriman walked back to the room.

* * *

It was already bedtime, at least for the older folks now. Having nothing else better to do during the late-night evening, Ben was in his room, seated on a fabric couch chair, near the right side of the bed, with his feet crossed over an elegantly-carved and surface-padded, four-legged footstool, was steeped in thought over his slightly tattered and weather-beaten Fifth Regiment army manual book, a standard handbook for regulars that deal with the conventional weapons, tactics, and survival strategies that every volunteer in the Fifth Regiment should have an awareness of. A much-cherished, folded pamphlet of Thomas Paine's _Common Sense_ served as a bookmark. On the back of the front cover was a handmade, woodcut miniature of Felicity at thirteen years of age.

It was then that Felicity quietly entered the room.

"Don't you think you should be going to bed, Ben?" she asked, trying to act serious.

"I had a bit of difficulty sleeping," Ben answered fluently. "I'll be fine, Lissie."

Felicity was not in the mood to take just a casual "I'll be fine" for an answer. She sat close by to Ben by the bedside. She noticed a thin slip of the Lissie portrait sticking out of the book.

"What is that little piece of paper sticking out of that book?" Felicity asked Ben.

"Oh." Ben took out the slip. "Here," he finished, handing the paper over to Felicity, who observed the thirteen-year-old portrait of herself. Even during her childhood, she was the prettiest, with the face of a young girl whose innocence was preserved. _Oh sweet, sweet innocence,_ Felicity ruminated contemplatively to herself.

"'Tis awfully hard to believe I could have been this…little…when you left," Felicity put forth. She wished that she didn't compromise her innocence too much now. "When I was little,…I had so much innocence within me."

"And now you are a shameless flirt?" Ben asked.

Felicity made a suggestive laugh to herself. "Aye, one could say that," she agreed, as she regained herself. "Close, I guess."

"That's like a hussy," imagined Ben.

Felicity gave Ben a disapproving look in her face, as she put her hands with the portrait down. "Ben, really," she said in exasperation. "'Tis most unkind to place me with such people. I'm a _gentlewoman_, remember?"

"Um…sorry. I almost forgot," Ben replied with a sheepish manner and a sheepish grin.

Felicity made a face that reflected mostly wryness and disapproval as she crossed her arms and stared into the dark ceiling that was slightly illuminated by the candlelight. "I don't see why you have to make such boorish remarks that go beyond mild indelicacy for a young lady," she remarked.

"'Cause I was in the war," Ben seemed to answer Felicity. "War can make people forget things, sometimes, Lissie-girl."

In her lovesick demeanor, Felicity seemed pretty disappointed over Ben's seemingly uncaring remark. "I guess you're right," she affirmed dejectedly. "Maybe war does that. Much of the time, sad to say."

"But it hasn't made me forget to love you, or made me forget how much I love you," Ben tried to assure her out of love.

Felicity handed the portrait back to Ben, who stuffed it back into the back cover of the manual's front cover. He snapped the book shut, and faced Felicity' pretty glowing face in the candlelight, and it told him for certain that her beauty was progressively blooming.

"You're right about that, too," Felicity declared. "Mayhap that little portrait of thirteen-year-old me kept that burning flame of my love with the depths of your heart."

"I cried over it, too," Ben admitted in a wry manner.

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Felicity, nearly mollified but humored. "Surely not! You're a man. How could you?"

"Couldn't help it," was all that Ben had to answer at this moment of having his masculinity questioned.

Felicity gave the matter some thought. "I guess men do have feelings, too," she remarked quite thoughtfully.

"Well said, Lissie-girl."

"Are you sure you're not going to bed, Ben?" Felicity asked him again, for she seemed to be concerned about Ben getting his nighttime rest.

"What's the hurry?"

Now Felicity was acting pretty suggestive. "You'll need your sleep," she said, with a laugh and a manner of speech that sounded both naughty and flirty.

"I suppose…"

"Well, in that case," said Felicity in playfully haughty manner, "I shall set an example for you…by going to bed myself."

"Smart girl."

"Mmm." Felicity took a breath. "Good night,…Ben."

"Good night,…Felicity," Ben blurted out almost sheepishly.

Felicity took leave of the room, shutting the bedroom door as quietly as she could. Ben stowed his book away, blue out the candle, and jumped into bed.

* * *

A/N (1): Duffman Manor, to be more specific, seems to be largely based on the Dan Andreasen illustrations of the Coles' house in _Very Funny, Elizabeth_.

A/N (2): Much of the architectural descriptions were derived from a photographic picture book called _The English Country Room_. (Note: "semi-arcular arch-holder" – I had no precise idea what term is used to describe the thing that is situated over doors, so I decided to make up a name for it. If you know the exact term for that thing, post a comment about it.)

A/N (3): The names of Mr. and Mrs. Cole are not specified in the Felicity series books, so I decided to come up with English names for them.


	6. Breakfast With Lady Duffman PART I

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 6

Breakfast With Lady Duffman – PART I

It was now eight in the morning of the next day. As the bright April sunlight bathed its splendor in the guest bedroom, Felicity was lovingly comb-stroking her gingery-red hair with a wooden hairbrush. She was very relaxed about performing all this personal grooming, as if she had all the time in the world.

Suddenly she heard someone calling her. "Lissie! Lissie!"

Felicity could immediately recognize that it was her mother.

"Oh…" snarled Felicity in exasperation. "All right, Mother, I'm coming!" she responded. Throwing the hairbrush down in a rather unladylike manner, she sprinted out of the room and rushed downstairs.

Felicity was very much surprised to see her mother present in the waiting hall. Added to her surprise was the presence of Mrs. Cole and her best friend Elizabeth, who was dressed in her regular blue spring gown. Mrs. Cole's blonde hair was pinned back, and her blue-gray eyes sparkled. Her demeanor was pretty reserved.

"Good gracious, Lissie, you're nearly late!" cried her mother. "Where in the world have you been? Beautifying yourself?"

"I…I was," faltered Felicity. "A little bit." Then she got into her usual spunky mood. "But Mother, 'twas just so dreamy to comb my beautiful red hair."

Mrs. Merriman only sighed. Felicity looked around rather curiously. "Who are we waiting for?" she asked.

"Lady Duffman," Mrs. Cole answered for her.

"Lady…" Felicity was breathless.

"'Tis true," agreed Mrs. Merriman. She whispered to her daughter. "You'd best be on your best behavior, Lissie. Don't get all fidgety."

Felicity's hyperactive young mind was racing over the whereabouts of her father and her siblings. "Where's Father?" she asked. "And…and the others?"

"They're in the kitchen, having breakfast."

"Is…is Ben with them."

Mrs. Merriman nodded.

"How come I'm not with them?" asked Felicity impatiently. She wasn't really that into tea parties, and Felicity had an itching to join other people in an informal atmosphere. For her, breakfast with the mistress was not what she had in mind in spending the day after her birthday. It was supposed to be fun, and she felt that all the formalities that she would have to observe at the breakfast table would squeeze all enthusiasm out of her body. Felicity could almost tell that Elizabeth was feeling the same way she was at the bottom of her heart, but for the most part, Elizabeth was a calm, sensible young lady, and knew how to go about such formal things.

It did not take long for the renowned Lady Priscilla Duffman to arrive. She was a slightly stout lady of the regal aristocracy in her elderly age of sixty. Yet despite her age, she possessed a rather vivacious personality. Her gown was exquisitely sparkling, and her snow-white hair with a tinge of gray color was pinned up in such a manner that both Mrs. Merriman and Mrs. Cole could almost swear that she looked just like Martha Washington herself.

"Why, good lovely morning to you all," Lady Duffman greeted regally.

Mothers and daughters responded to the formal, gracious greeting with a curtsy. Felicity's curtsy was a bit off, and she nearly stumbled, much to Mrs. Merriman's disapproval. Having a keen eye for detail, Lady Duffman took notice of the stumble, but decided to overlook it for the time being, for the sake of her honored guests.

"Well, well, well!" said Lady Duffman quite eagerly, clasping her hands. "This truly…is a marvelous occasion for you…four…to be here…in this…"

"Lovely April morning?" chirped Felicity excitedly, squirming a little.

"That's right, girl," responded Lady Duffman, wagging a finger of approval.

"I know that because 'twas my birthday yesterday," Felicity added rather precociously.

"Really? Hmm…"

Mrs. Merriman leaned closer to her daughter. "Lissie, you know 'tis most rude to interrupt," she whispered in a disapproving manner.

"But…" Felicity could only sigh and feel slightly guilty over what she had done. But her guilt vanished when she perked her head up in alertness over whatever witty comments would be coming out of Lady Duffman's mouth. She looked over Elizabeth, who was now smiling pleasantly, trying to make herself feel at ease at the moment.

"It seems, then, that only on the fewest of occasions have I ever seen such a matching pair of both mother…and daughter…with the very hair same color," Lady Duffman announced. "Yes…quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"'Tis quite a coincidence, indeed, Your Ladyship," said Mrs. Cole formally. She, like Mrs. Merriman, and just like any other mother, was suspicious that Lady Duffman might go a bit overboard on making negative comments on her daughter's appearance. For any mother, such a situation would be a mite embarrassing.

Then Lady Duffman made her personal approach to Elizabeth. "I take it that you…are Elizabeth Cole," said Lady Duffman, facing the blonde-haired girl.

"Yes, Your Ladyship," answered Elizabeth meekly.

"Splendid, splendid." Lady Duffman agreed. "I have never seen such wondrous, young golden English beauty dazzle Duffman manor like this before. Such wondrous, rosy cheeks, might I say. You'll be the flower of all England, possibly the flower of your homely birthplace."

Mrs. Cole was not all that sure how to take that. Lancaster may have been homely in the eyes of the aristocracy, but for the most part, it was a pleasant rural area, where even middle class folk like herself enjoyed staying at, back when she and her family were in England before moving to the Colonies.

Felicity started rolling her eyes. _I wonder what she's going to say about me_, she thought to herself. _That I'm just a red-headed witch who brings curses to Duffman Manor. I'll bet she's going to say just the very same thing about Mother, too._

The very next person that Lady Duffman decided to comment about on her whim was Felicity, and it was then that she approached her. "And look at you, darling one!" she exclaimed enthusiastically to Felicity. "Budding…like a full-grown rose bush!" She pinched Felicity's left cheek with seemingly weird affection. "Such feminine arms!" She stroked and smoothed over Felicity's left arm, which to hear was very smooth to the touch. And last, but not least, her gaze pierced at Felicity's décolletage. "And such exquisitely perfect, well-formed, well-developed breasts!" It was then that Felicity winced over what Lady Duffman was doing to her; even Mrs. Merriman was wincing, too. "Are you going to let men caress them, child?" Lady Duffman asked Felicity in an impish manner.

Felicity goggled in dismay. "What?" She looked down abruptly before instinctively putting her hand on the low-cut area of her bosom. "These?" she squeaked. Frowning in a shocked manner at Lady Duffman, mouth agape, she defensively covered her hands over the sides of her bosom, in a manner that both breast and arm corresponded with each other in their proper places. "Only my beloved, Lady Duffman," she declared disapprovingly. "'Twould be most shameful for other men to simply do such a thing…"

"Now, now, child," Lady Duffman interrupted Felicity, in her attempt to assure her of only playful banter. "I was only teasing." She made a pause, before making an impish face, with an impish grin. "Really, dear, I just _love_ a good tease."

Both mothers looked at each other curiously over Lady Duffman's actions. Felicity and Elizabeth looked at each other, too. Without another word, Lady Duffman made a finger signal to a modestly dressed sixteen-year-old young curly redheaded, freckle-faced maiden who was under her employ. The maiden started whistling, which got the attention of both mothers.

And it especially captured Felicity's attention as well. There was something in the girl that she thought was…familiar. _Yes; familiar_, she thought to herself. _As if I saw her before long ago…_

The maiden shot a glance at Felicity, wide-eyed. It almost seemed that the servant girl recognized her a bit, but most of the recognition was for the most part minimal.

"A servant is being called," said Lady Duffman. "You are to have the pleasure of my company while you are in this house. Which is why I insisted that you join."

It did not take long for the colored servant to arrive downstairs. He was clad in a dark-green overcoat, and wore a bag wig, according to the fashions that Lady Duffman set for her servants in her own household.

"Ah, yes," said Lady Duffman eagerly. "Roger, do show the ladies to their seats."

"Yes'm," the manservant replied with a fairly courteous but stiff bow.

Lady Duffman then turned to the servant girl. "And Anne, do bring the tea tray to the parlor."

With an easygoing nod, the girl took her leave. _Anne?_ Felicity asked herself curiously. _That name sounds so familiar…_

Lady Duffman clapped her hand once as a gesture of finality. "Well!" she exclaimed willfully. "This way, ladies…

Both mothers and the girls followed Lady Duffman, with Felicity looking around curiously as she turned her head.

"Your Ladyship," said Felicity. "Who…is Anne?"

"Is she a friend of yours?" asked Lady Duffman.

"Um…'tis just that I happened to see a girl by the name of Anne back in Williamsburg. Apprenticed to a widow named Mrs. Whitehurst."

"Whitehurst!" said Lady Duffman. "Yes, the girl told me her story of yore. She said that her mistress was…raped to death by British soldiers during Williamsburg's takeover by British troops, two years ago. Said that she ran away at the behest of her mistress, and she traveled all the way to seek employment. I found her on the steps, all forlorn and heartbroken and alone, and half-starved…and…and it touched me. I let her in, and when she received back her strength, she asked whether she could work under my employ. And I said yes."

Mrs. Merriman had seen Anne before, a few days before she got back from her visit with Aunt Prudence, but that was so long ago. "I happened upon her one time," she said. "But that was the last time I saw here. And…she is really here?"

"Of course she is," said Lady Duffman.

Lady Duffman and the rest of the mother-daughter group stepped into the wondrous parlor room. The parlor room was eighteen feet in both length and width and fifteen feet in height; almost as large as the dance hall in the Governor's Palace, which was unfortunately burned down back in December of 1781. Two tall windows graced the back wall at opposite ends, and were retrofitted with Venetian draperies. The windows allowed the morning sunlight to bathe the room in a manner befitting a heavenly surrounding. Between the windows was an elaborately decorated fireplace with elegant hand-crafted panels, with a painting gracing the top of the fireplace. At the center of the ceiling was hung an elegant brass chandelier with wax candles.

Perched over the rug was a small four-legged circular round table, with a complete set of china spread out, ready for the roles of breakfast taking. Around the table were four wooden-frame armchairs. A large majority of the furniture of Duffman Manor were imported from England.

The ladies took their seats and the footman took his leave. The servant girl, shy in personality, promptly arrived with the tea tray and set it down on the middle of the table.

"I'll take it from here, Miss," said Lady Duffman kindly. "Thank you."

In a flash of instinct, Felicity tugged at the maidservant's arm. "Wait!" she cried.

"Lissie!" exclaimed her mother, shocked over Felicity's unladylike behavior at the table.

The maidservant let out a gasp of shock. "F-F-F-…Fel-i-city?" she faltered, as if it was a long time since she said a single word out of her mouth. Felicity knew it within a shot. It was indeed Anne. Yes, the very Anne who was the mysterious thief in the Merriman household, filching miscellaneous merchandise essential for a long journey. The Anne who said she wanted to be apprenticed to Mrs. Whitehurst. But so much had changed of her since their last encounter.

"Yes, that's right," Felicity interjected hurriedly. "You're the one I've met long ago."

"So…so it seems," said Anne.

"Tell me how you ended up here," Felicity demanded.

"Well," the girl began. "'Tis a long story, mostly…"

Anne started pouring out her childhood story of how she ended up in the employ of Duffman Manor. The employ under Mrs. Whitehurst was going along fine, until she turned sixteen. It was then that poor Mrs. Whitehurst, from what Lady Duffman said initially, was literally raped to death by three British soldiers and their commanding officer. Mrs. Whitehurst screamed for Anne to run away.

"They…they did…things…to her," Anne narrated.

"My God…" uttered Mrs. Cole.

"Did they really?" asked Mrs. Merriman in disbelief. Anne's genuine nod of assent was pretty much enough to convince them that what she was saying right at this very moment about the incident past was true.

And it was then that one of the officers started chasing after her like a mad dog. He managed to pin Anne down, and started tearing off the bodice of her gown to get his itching hands on her pretty flesh. The officer's intemperance for sexual pleasure got the better of him, and he got so carried away by his animalistic passions that he was unaware that Anne had something up her sleeve. Drawing a kitchen knife from her gown, she brought the blade to him on his side, and then slashed him once across his body. That put the officer at bay for the moment, and Anne used the opportunity to make her scrambling getaway from him. The officer gave up the chase on account of his knife injuries, so he headed back to Mrs. Whitehurst's house.

Anne ran away as fast she could out of Williamsburg, avoiding as may redcoats as she could. She traveled to Richmond on foot, sleeping in barns and horse-stables for temporary means of shelter. She arrived to Richmond with the hope of looking for some employment in the city, but someone told her about Duffman Manor, to which Lady Duffman was hiring servant girls. Anne decided to try out Duffman manor, but by the time she made her arrival to the front of the Manor House, she collapsed from exhaustion, and started crying. It was then that Lady Duffman, out of pity, took her in and sheltered her. Then when she recovered her strength, she asked the mistress as to whether she could be of use to her, and Lady Duffman kindly consented. And that was how she ended up under Lady Duffman's employ.

Felicity wondered whether Lady Duffman had left out some of the gruesome details of Anne's terrible situation to put Mrs. Merriman and Mrs. Cole at ease before then went into the parlor room. Anne glimpsed at Lady Duffman who was sort of keeping a straight face at her, and she sort of knew just by the look on her face that it was time to go.

"I have to go," said Anne willfully. She bowed her head hurriedly and left the dining room immediately to tend to her standard household duties. Mrs. Merriman and Mrs. Cole were confiding opinions to each other about Anne's story of interesting times.

Lady Duffman daintily took the teapot as a gracious and graceful hostess. "Cream and sugar, Mrs. Cole?" she asked Elizabeth's mother.

"Yes, thank you, Your Ladyship," Mrs. Cole answered softly in the manner of an accomplished gentlewoman. Lady Duffman poured English tea into Mrs. Cole's teacup.

Mrs. Merriman was the next in line. "What about you, Mrs. Merriman?" she asked her.

"Of course, yes. Thank you, Your Ladyship," Mrs. Merriman replied softly in the same manner as Mrs. Cole. Lady Duffman did likewise with Mrs. Merriman's teacup. She was finished pouring tea…for the moment.

Elizabeth was next. "And you, Miss Elizabeth?" Lady Duffman asked her graciously.

"Of course," Elizabeth responded rather bashfully. "Thank you, Your Ladyship."

And Felicity was last. "What about you, Miss Felicity?" asked Lady Duffman as she was in the process of pouring tea into Elizabeth's teacup.

Felicity was getting a little carried away about Anne's story that she nearly forgot her basic table manners. "Um…sure. Yes," said Felicity in a cursory manner.

Mrs. Merriman leaned closer to whisper something to her eldest daughter like a corrective teacher. "'Tis 'yes, thank you, Your Ladyship', Lissie," she whispered. Then Mrs. Merriman sat back on her seat.

Felicity cleared her throat. "Um…yes, thank you, Your Ladyship," she responded with a rather dispassionate sigh. The only thing that got her out of her exasperation was her mother's subtle nod of approval over the right words.

Tea was poured by Lady Duffman into Felicity's teacup. This concluded the pouring of the tea. Lady Duffman immediately initiated conversation across the tea table.

"Well!" affirmed Lady Duffman, no doubt with her characteristically high-and-mighty tone of confidence in her elderly but lively voice. "It seems to be that on the one hand, Miss Felicity has had no trouble so far in finding some…handsome young man to court, as I seem to have been aware of who he is, according to a report from one of my most loyal servants." She turned her gaze to Elizabeth. "You, Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, have been so reticent as to be withholding any such information about any love life you might have." She enthusiastically sipped her tea from her teacup. "So,…do tell me, Miss Elizabeth. You being at least the same age as that of your best friend, have you found some suitable…_handsome_ young suitor to court, perchance?"

Elizabeth gave a nod as she busily sipped her tea. "Mm-hmm," she answered.

"Really?" asked Lady Duffman. "Do tell me about him, if I may be so bold as to query."

Elizabeth cleared her throat a bit nervously in preparation for her response. Even through her teenage years, she had an aversion against being the center of society.

"He is a handsome young man," was Elizabeth's response, while acting dreamily.

The Lady Duffman made a rather pouty look, as if she was being somewhat playful in the manner of a child.

"Is that all to say, dear?" she asked her. "Pray, tell me; what is his name?"

Elizabeth gulped before making her response both bashfully and hesitantly. "Well, um…"

"Come on, Elizabeth!" cried Felicity excitedly, almost too loudly for a proper lady. "There must be more to say about him than meets the eye!"

"Lissie, not so loud!" Mrs. Merriman chided her daughter in a whisper.

Elizabeth felt pretty pressured by both Lady Duffman and Felicity that she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "A gentleman by the name of Mr. Phillip Michaels," she replied quickly in a low, timid tone of voice.

"Phillip Michaels," Lady Duffman mused. "Hmm…" She continued sipping her tea, as usual, after that uttered word. "Go on," she prompted.

Elizabeth took Lady Duffman's cue as an indication to launch into further detail about her beloved. "He has chocolate-brown hair and handsome gray eyes. And the handsomest face ever. At present…he's studying at the College, and hopefully he should be here soon in time for the ball. He's from a wealthy family from England, but he takes a fancy to living in the Colonies...mainly because I'm here," she finished with a giggle.

"Interesting, interesting," quipped Lady Duffman, after nodding through every phrase of Elizabeth's description."

"He's from England, too, If I may say."

"Splendid, splendid," stated Lady Duffman, during her enthusiastic tea-sipping. "Would he, by any chance, love the peaceful outdoors?" she asked Elizabeth. "I happen to take a fancy to staying outdoors myself, but oftentimes than not, my husband would coax me into staying indoors for my own health if I stayed outside too much, even during inclement weather.

"I suppose he does…" replied Elizabeth.

"Well then," followed Lady Duffman with finality.

There was brief silence across the breakfast table. Felicity was itching to pose a question to Lady Duffman concerning Virginian hospitality.

"Um…Lady Duffman?" Felicity spoke up impulsively after clearing her throat.

Lady Duffman looked up from her tea-sipping. "Yes, child?" she answered, her inflection descending during the utterance of those two words of response.

"Um…" began Felicity a little hesitantly. "Might I make an inquiry as to why we have been given the honor to be guests and lodgers at your hose?"

Both Mrs. Merriman and Mrs. Cole shifted curious glances at Felicity. Such a question would not normally be posed to the hostess; questioning the generosity of others was not only bold but also discourteous, for it seemed to question the motives of the hostess.

Lady Duffman cleared her throat in turn. "Pray, what has given you the impetus to make such an inquiry, dear?" she asked Felicity.

"Well," began Felicity. "'Tis just that…" She gave the formulation of her reply some thought, as she nervously shifted glances to both the two mothers and her friend, as if there was some hint of disapproval over her impulsive inquiry. "We…as common colonists…so to speak…have been conferred an honor to reside at the house of a prominent…"

"Now, now, child, there's no need to mince words," Lady Duffman cut in right away. "You could just say that I was very…whimsical…at my generosity. Which I was, of course, if you don't mind me saying."

As usual, Mrs. Merriman leaned over to her eldest daughter. "Lissie, 'tis most discourteous to question the generosity of others," she whispered disapprovingly to her.

"Yes, Mother," said a rather disheartened Felicity.

"You must pardon my eldest daughter, Your Ladyship," said Mrs. Merriman diplomatically to Lady Duffman. Mrs. Merriman's motive to make such an apology to the hostess was in part her way of let the hostess know that Felicity's actions were a child's honest mistake, assuming of course that Lady Duffman was type of easy-going individual. In reaction, Felicity heaved an impatient and cross sigh. It was so annoying for her to be rebuked for every action that wasn't considered ladylike; certainly it was no wonder that she kept questioning her purpose of being present at Lady Duffman's tea party.

"Really, Mrs. Merriman," rejoined Lady Duffman. "The question in itself was just a child's honest inquiry."

Felicity was anxious for Lady Duffman to speak her piece during another silent moment that lasted for a few seconds.

"However, I do believe there is a rather interesting story behind this act of generosity," she confidently declared. And as she mused for a fairly short-lived moment, Lady Duffman was busying herself with devouring a queen cake bit by bit.

"Would it please her Ladyship to tell us as to what this story is about?" Elizabeth requested politely.

Lady Duffman waved Elizabeth off a bit as an indication that she was chewing on her food. Elizabeth made a nervous gulp and cleared her throat, then nodded her head a little. She, like Felicity, was eagerly waiting for on Lady Duffman's answer.

Lady Duffman now decided to bring up the topic of Ben, Walter, and Brady.

"Are you a friend of Ben?" Lady Duffman asked Felicity, casting a curious glance at her.

It was at the sound of Ben's name that Felicity's heart jumped. "Oh, most surely, Your Ladyship!" Felicity exclaimed in hasty excitement. Then she lowered her tone to the tone of dining conversation but dreaming in nature. "He's more than just a friend."

"Mayhap your beloved?" Lady Duffman questioned the girl further.

Felicity nodded her head. It was then that Mrs. Merriman expounded the matter a bit on her daughter's behalf.

"Ben Davidson is my husband's young apprentice at a General store, which he operates in Williamsburg," she said in an informative manner.

Lady Duffman nodded her head eccentrically she started chewing daintily on a biscuit. "Splendid, splendid," she remarked in her usually brisk manner of speaking.

It did not take long for Lady Duffman herself to finish the biscuit. By the time she did so, her thoughts cleared up a little.

"Ah, yes. Ben," she said.

It was then that Lady Duffman launched into a little history lesson about the three former members of Col. Lee's Fifth Regiment. Back in 1781, Richmond, under the command of General Benedict Arnold, a former high-ranking staff officer under General Washington's army, who defected to the British _ years prior to the end of the war. At that time, Lady Duffman was mistress of the house in her husband's absence. She explained that the British planned to raze Duffman Manor to the ground because she was giving quarter to soldiers from the Continental Army, despite her Loyalist leanings.

According to Lady Duffman, it was at the persuasion of one of her colored servants, who came across Ben, Walter, and Brady while they were on assignment with some task in Richmond. The servant told her long ago that Ben was the one who had the gall to stop him cold in his tracks when the servant was "acting awful panicky" over the British burning down the house of his mistress employer.

The entire town was a raging inferno as Ben, Walter, and Brady rushed to the rescue. Brady stationed himself as the professional sniper in the cover of a second-story building nearest the Manor house across the street, constantly shooting redcoats in a rather proficient manner of an excellent sharpshooter, whilst Walter played the role of rifle loader for the multiple firearms that Brady was using every second of their finest hour. Ben, being the exceptional daredevil, carried out what he could with the assistance of the colored servant of putting out the fires that were licking up the place while nearly single-handedly keeping the redcoats at bay. They also had to fend off the torches that were being shoved and launched into the windows of the house, the primary cause of the flames. It was a sheer miracle that Ben, Walter, and Brady were able to save most of the house from destruction.

Brady's shooting skills, Walter's efficiency with loading the firearms for Brady, and Ben's daredevil character were combined with accomplishing one seemingly impossible and perilous task. But then that was what 5th Regimenters were trained to do. 5th Regimenters were renowned by both Patriots and Loyalists alike for their legendary courage, as well as for their special abilities. They were the specialists of Lee's Legion; the crème de le crème of the Continental Army. Some of them married to girls belonging to families with Loyalist leanings all over the Colonies after the war was over.

It was later on right after the war that Duffman Manor house was newly fixed. Both mothers and daughters marveled at the story of the heroic actions of Ben and his Fifth Regiment comrades. But Ben's actions were of greater note to Felicity, particularly because she was devoted to him, but then again, she could not afford to forget or not acknowledge the actions of his friends.

On the lighter note, Lady Duffman made mention of her handsome payment of the three brave young men.

"That _was_ an awful lot to pay them," Felicity remarked.

"Pish-posh," said Lady Duffman. "Generosity coupled with exceptional bravery I have never seen, much less heard of, should never go without repayment; at least not when I can afford it."

Whether it was thoughtless for Felicity to say that out of her hasty but curious mind remained to be seen. And it was then that Lady Duffman made mention that the Merriman Family, the Wheaton family, and the Brady family were invited to take up temporary residence at Duffman Manor was due to the fact the whole invitation was basically of repayment what Ben, Walter, and Brady did when they saved her house from certain destruction by the British troops.

"'Tis a pity that poor Matthew Brady isn't alive," said Lady Duffman in a sympathetic manner. "I surely would have done the same for him personally if he were here." She cleared her throat. "Leastways, I can be grateful to God of being able to invite his family over, as well as his lovely young wife, now recently widowed, poor thing."

"Why, have they come over?" Mrs. Merriman asked curiously.

"Of course, dear," answered Lady Duffman. "For the time being, they are taking up temporary residence in the east wing of the second floor." The East wing was a reference to the right wing of the building, as opposed to the west wing, or the left wing, where the Merrimans and the Coles were residing.

"Of course," Lady Duffman continued, "From what I was told by Brady's family, Fanny who is Brady's young wife, decided to decline the invitation to the ball, but her family decided 'twould do her some good cheer, since the course of several weeks past were quite agonizing for the poor lass, given her grief over the loss of her love." She continued sipping her tea.

"Poor her," said Mrs. Merriman sympathetically.

"I wonder how the lass will get by in her life," added Mrs. Cole.

"Will she be all right?" asked Elizabeth. For Felicity, listening to the conversation made her feel truly thankful that Ben and Walter were alive today.

Lady Duffman nodded. "I think she will," she replied, trying not to sound too tactless. "I hope she will."

"What you just told…about Ben, Walter, and Brady…" voiced Felicity, "Was truly an inspiring story, Your Ladyship."

"I do agree with my best friend on that, too," said Elizabeth. "But…"

"What, child?"

"Well,…'tis just that…" Elizabeth shot a glance at Felicity for a second, then faced Lady Duffman, taking a deep breath, for politics were about to make its entrance into the heart of the current discussion. "Well…Ben is Patriot. And you…being a Loyalist…I was having difficulty over the notion of why he and his friends would go to the trouble of saving your home…when there were others on his side who would gladly destroy it for you…or let it get destroyed…by the fire."

The Lady Duffman made a rather wry face. "Generosity knows no sides, dear," she said to Elizabeth. "I judge a man, woman, or child by what they do. Mayhap not outrightly, of course."

"Thank God," remarked Felicity, exhaling a sigh of relief. She would certainly feel very awkward being judged openly about her deeds and conduct.

"I beg your pardon, child?" Lady Duffman asked Felicity.

Felicity immediately perked her head up at Lady Duffman. "Well…um…," she continued. "If you were any other lady of high standing, and I did things that would've been frowned upon,…I should deserve embarrassment in front of my family and friends."

"Quite, so, quite so," agreed Lady Duffman. "You can thank God all you like that I'm not one of these people. "However, discourtesy can be more stressful…on a lady…and a gentleman."

Scuffling sounds could he heard across the doorway of the parlor room. Lady Duffman faced the entrance doorway. Taking not of Lady Duffman's gaze, both mothers and daughters turned their heads to see who it could be.

Sure enough, it was Ben and Walter who are present. Whether both boys were up to no good remained to be seen.

"Why, boys, what brings you here to this grandiose parlor?" Lady Duffman greeted Ben and Walter.

"Well…um…" Ben began in his usual awkward manner. "I just wanted to check on…you know…how Lissie is doing…"

"We got bored," Walter cut in pointedly. "Basically."

"Bored," said Lady Duffman rather skeptically. "Bored, you say?"

"That's right," returned Walter right away in a brisk manner. "On account of that we thought that we should return the favor of inviting us to sleep over at your house by entertaining you in the most interesting ways…possible."

Lady Duffman was wide-eyed with curiosity over what sort of entertainment both Ben and Walter had in mind. "Hmm…" she mused briefly. "Well, boys, do come in."

Walter was the first to take a big striding step forward, and Ben followed.

"So…what is all this…"embarrassment" that Miss Felicity was talking about?"

Impulsively Felicity flounced around Walter while seated. "You were eavesdropping?" she asked in shock. "How could you, Walter Wheaton!"

"Couldn't help it, Missy," said Walter rather tactlessly. "Remember me saying just a few seconds ago that I was…bored?"

"There are plenty of interesting things for you boys to do," stated Felicity with a superior, mischievous air.

"Aye," said Ben. "Like encompassing sweet, sweet Lissie in my strong arms like the wings of a dove. Or however you ladies would like to say it in your sweetest words."

Felicity chuckled to herself over Ben's hilarious but noble way of showing his love and devotion for her. "Perhaps later, Ben," she said. "Meantime, I'm having tea with my best friend, Mother, Mrs. Cole, and the Honorable…"

"Lady Duffman," cut in Walter, interrupting Felicity. "We get it."

Felicity felt rather miffed about being interrupted so quickly. But it was Elizabeth who spoke for her on her behalf.

"'Tis most rude to interrupt, Walter Wheaton," she said in a disapproving, almost icy tone of voice.

"Huh," remarked Ben shortly.

It seemed that Lady Duffman was anxious to change the subject before more arguments followed over the breakfast table.

"I dare say, 'tis nearly the right time to have some form of entertainment gracing this very home." She then turned to the girls. "Do any of you girls play the pianoforte?" she asked them. Usually it was girls who played an instrument like that.

"My best friend does," Felicity replied quickly.

If there was someone in the little breakfast group who could play the spinet with grace and fluency, it would be Elizabeth.

Elizabeth tried not to blush whilst smiling her sweetest smile. "Mm-hmm," she answered.

"I've heard her play before," Walter put in. "'Tis most awful. 'Tis the tinniest-sounding performance I could ever imagine. And the instrument itself is terribly tinny…"

Walter had just broken the mood. Elizabeth, looking visibly humiliated over what Walter said about her musical performance, hung her head without another word in the manner of a sensitive girl. Both the mothers and Felicity looked at Walter with disapproving faces. Mrs. Cole shook her head over Walter's sharp criticism, said only a few seconds go, and Walter's only reaction was the shrugging of his shoulders. Taking notice over Elizabeth's manner of conveying her disappointment, Ben elbowed his friend on the left arm as a sharp indication of his displeasure as well.

"What?" growled Walter in a rather testy manner of speaking.

"You, my friend, are insulting my fiancé's best friend," Ben whispered back to him.

"The ruttin' hell I did," Walter muttered right away in indignation. "I'm bored. This is the way of having fun to my very own self."

Meanwhile, Lady Duffman pretended not to notice both Ben and Walter arguing with each other as she conversed with Elizabeth.

"Now cheer up, child," she consoled her. "Mayhap Mr. Wheaton was only having fun with himself. 'Tis only natural, I would think, for a man to do so."

Elizabeth looked up.

"As long as he doesn't go too far," Lady Duffman added further.

Elizabeth came to her senses and changed her demeanor a bit, given that she thought it would be of no use to her to nurse hurt pride. Lady Duffman decided to get back to the matter of the keyboard instrument.

"Now, child," she continued. "You imply to the point that you can play the spinet?"

"That is true, Your Ladyship," Elizabeth answered.

"Who taught you how, if I may so ask?"

"Miss Francis Manderly, Your Ladyship," said Elizabeth shyly, but with great composure.

"Well then," said Lady Duffman determinedly. "We mustn't waste the time. Do entertain us, Miss Cole."

Elizabeth eagerly rose from her seat daintily and headed to the pianoforte situated conveniently at the corner of the room in front of the table for guests to take pleasure in hearing played. The spinet's wooden frame was oaken, and elegantly hand-carved. Its condition, judging from Elizabeth's testing of a single keystroke on the instrument, was fair in the quality of its resounding musical tone. The pianoforte's bench was made of the same wooden material as the pianoforte itself, with each of its legs shaped like that of a lion's leg and paw.

As Elizabeth daintily took to her seat on the bench, she daintily smoothed and fluffed the petticoats of her pale blue gown. Lady Duffman, Mrs. Cole, and Felicity kept their eyes on Elizabeth in anticipation as she took her seat on the performer's bench. Ben took to his seat in a relaxed manner, while Walter just plopped down.

"Now we are being entertained by the gracious Miss Cole to the tinniest of musical instruments," whispered Walter as he plopped right away on his seat area. "The grand ol' spinet."

"Shut up, Walter," said Ben. "I wanna listen. And 'tis a pianoforte, not a spinet."

Walter simply snorted in reply as he took a luxurious, untidy-looking slouch on the sofa, with his legs extended.

And Elizabeth gracefully played the spinet with great finesse, performing a piece from Mozart.

* * *

A/N (1): If you have read _Lady Margaret's Ghost_, by Elizabeth McDavid Jones, you'll have an idea as to where the character Anne came from. In that particular book, it is implied that Anne is just about the same age as Felicity. She was the mysterious thief that was taking stuff from the Merriman household, until Felicity discovered her. She made a decision to seek an apprenticeship with Mrs. Whitehurst in the sewing business. That's pretty much the last that we know what become of her – that is, until I've made personal additions to a bit of her teenage life.

A/N (2): What little facial descriptions about Mrs. Cole was derived directly from the Dan Andreasen illustrations in the book _Very Funny, Elizabeth._


	7. Breakfast With Lady Duffman PART II

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 7

Breakfast With Lady Duffman – PART II

Graceful hand-clapping applause resounded across the room. A rather unenthusiastic Walter clapped in an unenthusiastic manner. Ben didn't seem to mind clapping to the performance at all. After all, Ben could be courteous if he so wanted to.

"That was very beautifully performed, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Cole, as she beamed dotingly upon her daughter.

"Aye, I should agree," Mrs. Merriman concurred with Mrs. Cole.

"Nicely done, mate," added Walter.

Elizabeth beamed back at Walter in gratitude for his flattering comment. "Why, thank you, Walter-dear," she said to him sweetly.

Walter nodded before turning his head over to the Lady Duffman whilst standing from his seat before her and her guests. "Now that I offered my gracious compliments to the female spinet player, is there…by any chance…anything of any edible and delectable sort to eat around here?"

"Pianoforte, pianoforte," enunciated Ben in a whisper, annoyed mostly over Walter getting it wrong, whether intentionally or not.

"Of course, Mr. Wheaton," answered Lady Duffman. She took a china platter full of large homemade buttermilk biscuits from the midst of the breakfast table and offered it to Walter.

"Here," she said. "Help yourself to a biscuit."

Walter immediately grabbed a biscuit from the platter, almost vibrating it in Lady Duffman's hand, without a second thought. "Oh, thank heaven," he said with relief. "I'm starving. Literally."

Felicity laughed humorously at Walter. "You're _not_ starving, Walter," she said to him with great impishness.

Walter was busying to himself to munching casually on his biscuit. "Yes, I am," he replied indignantly. "I haven't got to eat goodly biscuits such as that often since the whole bloody war. We were forced to resort to hardtack most of the days."

"Didn't you get to have any good biscuits?" queried Elizabeth curiously.

"Well, if we were going to embark on a special mission, we'd have to eat pretty well," answered Walter quickly, as if he liked talking about his days in the back in the Fifth Regiment. "But most of the time, when we're on reserve duty…it's the regular Continental. And mark my words, 'tis not about the best breakfast ever."

Walter continued wolfing down his biscuit. What he implied at this point was rationed soldiers' meals, which were the main course on most days.

"Gracious, Mr. Wheaton!" Lady Duffman exclaimed over Walter's shocking manner of devouring food. "Slow down! This is teatime food, not a buffet!"

Walter immediately grabbed another biscuit from the tray, almost ignoring Lady Duffman's indignations.

"So, tell me, dear Walter," said Lady Duffman, now a mite calmer. "How is Sarah?"

"What?" asked Walter while chewing on his biscuit, speaking with his mouth full.

"Your girl, Sarah Bennett," Lady Duffman informed him in her mild specifications. "Soon to be Sarah Bennett Wheaton, I wager?"

"Just getting about," answered Walter, still with his mouth full. "A year's worth till, give or take, 'fore we get married." He sounded pretty anxious and impatient to get married to his girl soon.

"I see," said Lady Duffman in a rather observant manner. "'Twould be best if you and Sarah didn't wait too long. Youth does not remain on the young forever."

"My arse she does," Walter muttered to himself rather cynically.

It seemed that Mrs. Cole heard what Walter was saying. "Such language!" she exclaimed objectionably, as she took notice of what Walter had just said to himself.

"Walter…" Mrs. Merriman said to him disapprovingly, seeming to take not of Mrs. Cole's objections. Lady Duffman just simply rolled her eyes as she casually took another sip of her English tea.

"Your daughter seems to be especially quite…bold," Lady Duffman declared pretty speculatively to Mrs. Merriman.

Mrs. Merriman made a light chuckle in response. "Should I take that as a compliment?" she asked.

"I think you should," declared Lady Duffman right away. It _is_ to my observance…after hearing of the results of the war that boldness seems to be the fad and fashion among the colonists."

"Like me," cut in Walter.

"Likewise, Walter has just concurred my point," Lady Duffman said supportively of Walter. "Which…brings me to another point, if I so may continue."

Lady Duffman decided to see for herself the anticipative behaviors among her guests.

"There have been strange…rumors…over heroic actions done by individuals of the opposite sex, and I wonder whether your daughter had a part in them."

Mrs. Merriman darted her eyes back and forth a bit nervously, most likely out of unintended bashfulness over having a daughter doing boneheaded things. "Some things my daughter had a part in them," she said rather vaguely.

"She warned the colonists of Lord Dunmore's plot to steal our gunpowder," put in Ben, in reference to the gunpowder plot of April of 1775, back before the day of Felicity's tenth birthday.

"That was during my birthday," said Felicity, almost blushing. "Ben, you're making me blush like a newborn babe."

Despite Walter busying himself to munching on a third buttermilk biscuit, he was able to take part in the conversations to a bit of an extent. "For a bit of a girl, that don't sound half-bad," he opinionated.

Felicity shot Walter a rather unfriendly scowl. "Don't you call me a 'bit of a girl', Walter Wheaton!" she spat. "You speak as though I'm just a mere child! And at a time in my life when I want to be my own self when I'm growing up." For a child already come of age, being called a "bit of a girl" implied childishness on her part. But Walter still thought differently, though for humorous reasons.

"Well, you're still a child," he said. "In a manner of speaking, that is."

"How would you like me to say something like that to your sweetheart?" challenged Felicity, still facing Walter.

"Oh God!" exclaimed Walter sarcastically. "You don't mean that!"

"Yes, I do, Walter Wheaton," Felicity teased, while grinning her impish grin.

"Lissie, please," said Mrs. Merriman softly but with a tinge of exasperation.

"And it is '_doesn't'_, not '_don't'_," Felicity corrected Walter in addition to teasing him. He just shrugged her off with the wave of his right hand in a downward direction. Until everyone settled down to a fair extent, Ben continued.

"And," he said with emphasis, to catch the attention of the guests, "…And also the part where she turns in a British spy."

What Ben was pointing out right at this very moment was a reference to the sad story of Mr. Haskall. The young man was Felicity's friend before Felicity found out that he was a spy for the British in detailing plans for her Grandfather's plantation, King's Creek, as well as the other neighboring Patriot plantations, to be raided by British troops. Felicity didn't seem to be that proud of turning someone over to those on her side that she considered a friend before.

"There are some things I've done that I may not have been proud of, but which had to be done," said Felicity.

"Well said, Miss Merriman," complimented Walter with light gusto. That could explain on occasion why General Washington commissioned us to perform various tasks considered…_distasteful_…by civilized folk."

Lady Duffman nearly went into spasms. "Pray, like what?" she asked, shocked.

"Like…well…, filching from various towns, treasuries, and churches…" Ben stopped himself, and everyone could almost tell that Ben was hesitant to give specific details. But even with the lack of detail, what Ben was said about his summarization of the Fifth Regiment's filching activities made cause for alarm. Mrs. Merriman may have been alarmed as well, but not as much, since she heard Ben's stories about his adventures in the Fifth Regiment during his recuperation back home.

"Would it not be safe to spare any more specific details?" asked Lady Duffman.

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Duffman," said Ben as courteously as he could without sounding unfriendly to her in the manner of avoiding an excessively prying individual. "Those things that me and my friends did…have to be kept to our own selves, lest we run the risk of having ourselves and our loved ones become targets of vengeance by some vengeful folk fell victim to our seemingly dishonorable activities."

"But we didn't kill nobody," added Walter.

"Of course not," agreed Ben.

"Thank God," said Mrs. Cole, still in slight shock.

"I know Ben to be an honorable lad," said Mrs. Merriman in her attempt to assure the rest of the ladies that Ben was indeed a fairly scrupulous young man, perhaps for her eldest daughter's sake. "I hope…"

"Don't worry yourself over lady," said Walter. "There is still honor amongst thieves. Like us."

"Walter, don't give us away," hissed Ben a tad anxiously.

"We did it for the cause," Walter said indignantly to his friend.

"But at what cost, pray, Mr. Wheaton?" asked Mrs. Cole, still alarmed. Being on the Loyalist side, and a Loyalist herself, Mrs. Cole seemed to have every reason to be alarmed, given that many of her friends, neighbors, and acquaintances on the side of the Tories fell victim to the Patriots' misdeeds and atrocities.

Walter took another bite at his buttermilk biscuit and after wolfing the bite down, resumed speaking.

"Money, of course," said he. "We needed funds to fuel Washington's army. Which could be why General Washington picked us." He shot glances across the guests. "He wants us to do his own dirty and loathsome work. Work that is loathsome in the eyes of the civilized."

"My husband said that if that were the case, 'twould put General Washington in a very bad light." Mrs. Merriman had that impression ever since she heard Ben's stories of his days in the Fifth Regiment.

"Especially given that Walter is upheld by many of us Colonists on both political sides as a respectable man," added Ben.

"You said it, mate," said Walter.

Lady Duffman, out of courtesy, decided that talk of politics would make Mrs. Cole anxious, given that the side of the Tories was lost when the Colonists won the war. It seemed that for Mrs. Cole, any talk of politics that involved past recriminations over political viewpoints would sow unrest at her heart, leaving little moment for which to set her heart at peace.

"I propose we move on to another…topic suitable for most table conversations," said she.

"Aye? Like what?" challenged Walter.

"Anything that does not involve…"

"…Anything violent, despicable, or debauched in nature?" put in Ben.

"Mr. Davidson, you're being most rude," warned Lady Duffman, taking notice of Ben's hurried interrupting.

"Sorry, you're ladyship," said Ben, shrugging his shoulders. To himself, he said, "Guess I can't help it."

Lady Duffman just continued. "I suggest that we talk about…hmm…" It seemed that she had some difficulty coming up with some suitable topic for discussion.

Then Walter had the answer, popped into his head. "Marthas," he finished for her.

Lady Duffman darted back at Walter. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Wheaton?" she asked quickly.

Walter launched his explanation. "I seemed to hit upon a term that I used to describe camp followers in Washington's army and various housewives who sheltered us on occasions." He made a pause, hoping for some mood of anticipation on the part of the guests. "I call them…Marthas."

Though it should not have been to alarming for her, Mrs. Merriman could not help her heart jumping. Could they also be referring to her, too, given that her first name was Martha?"

"I seem to recall at one point we were sheltered," Walter continued, "That a soulful mother of three children overworked herself…nearly to death, heaven help her busy body…to give Ben, Brady, and me warmth and necessities…such as goodly warm food. The same she did to her children as well. She had a disposition to be thorough in almost _everything_, and while that may seem to be a bit…too far for anyone _not_ to truly appreciate her, she really was devoted to us…and her children ever since the day we stopped by.

Felicity beamed at Walter in a token of appreciation. "That was really sweet to say, Walter," she said with a friendly, pixie-faced grin.

Elizabeth flashed her sweet smile in return. "I agree with Lissie," she concurred. "That was really, really sweet to say."

Walter nodded, grinning with his mouth closed. "Anyway, if it wasn't for Marthas, the whole world would be drab, impersonal, inhospitable, and a ghastly mess," he declared.

Mrs. Merriman made a suppressive chuckle to herself in response to the comment, thinking that she might have some sort of involvement in the matter at hand.

"I think I'm detecting some funny business across this room," observed Walter, upon taking notice of Mrs. Merriman's suppressed laughter.

"Well," began Mrs. Merriman with a soft laugh. "'Tis just that…um…it so happens that my first name is Martha."

"Really?" asked Walter, his inflection down. "Because I was referring to the biblical Martha. The one that came to serve Our Lord at table."

"And methinks, I'm almost just like her," Mrs. Merriman admitted.

"There's nothing terribly wrong about that," said Ben rather sympathetically on behalf of Mrs. Merriman and the other possible Marthas existing in all the Thirteen Colonies. "Is there?"

"'Course not," said Lady Duffman huffily and determinedly. "I believe Master Wheaton is right."

Walter felt humorously flattered, and his commentaries became wittier. "Then you, my lady, should dub me as '_Witty Walter Wheaton_'," said mischievously and wittily.

Genial laughter resounded among the guests, on account of this seemingly clever triple-W alliteration.

But the mood was cut a little when in a few seconds three more guests emerged into the parlor room. It was Mr. and Mrs. Wythe and their nineteen-year-old daughter Fanny and grandson Joseph. Brown-haired, hazel-eyed Fanny stepped in quietly and bashfully into the parlor room.

"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Lady Duffman. "Who have we got here that does us the honor of making this breakfast time all the more merrier?"

"'Tis Fanny, your Ladyship," Mrs. Wythe answered calmly in her slight British accent. "And her son."

"Mrs. Brady, you say?" asked Ben, alerted.

"Aye."

Matthew Brady had a young wife named Frances, affectionately called Fanny. A year back months prior to the Siege of Yorktown, Brady married her while she was eighteen. Fanny found it so awful to have her husband away, especially during the days when she was with child. The last time she saw him was when he said goodbye to her, on the day the battle commenced. When word came through that he died on an away mission, she sobbed pretty wildly.

Along with Fanny was a baby son named Joseph, called Joey for short. Ben, Walter, Felicity, Elizabeth, Mrs. Merriman, Mrs. Cole, and Lady Duffman witnessed the infant in Fanny's cradling arms. Fanny was under the supervision of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wythe. Unfortunately, Matthew Brady was killed during the Siege of Yorktown, at the time of the storming of a building in Redoubt Two, when he and his comrades were on an infiltration mission. He was only twenty at that time.

Memories surged into Ben's head about Matthew Brady's last moments as he gazed at baby Joey.

"I dare say, he looks just like his father," he croaked with a sniffle, as he knelt squat in order to take a look at the baby boy at eye-level view.

As Ben greeted little Joey, he saw something in the baby boy that resembles the appearance of one of his wartime comrades. Flashback memories of his comrade surfaced in the back of his mentally anguished mind.

* * *

Siege of Yorktown

October, 1781 A.D…

A battle of epic proportions was taking place on a town near the James River. Artillery from the Continental Army kept up the suppressing bombardment of the town. French vessels under the command of Fleet Admiral Charles de Grasse also kept up the bombardment in the attempt of assisting the American forces, thus thinning the defensive forces of the British army. Washington's army was slowly inching its way through enemy lines while the British dug deep trench-wise into their fortifications and fired back.

Ben, Walter, and Brady were on an infiltration mission, as they sneaked their way past the boundaries of enemy lines. They were tasked with storming into a certain officer's post to retrieve intelligence that would be useful to Washington's commanding officers in order to be more effective in punching their way through "those arrogant Brits".

Except for Ben and Walter, Brady was the only member in the three-man squad to ever have a sword sheathed on his back like a stereotypical Japanese ninja. The only thing different about the sword was that it was formed in the manner of straight-wise Japanese sword, with its pointed end shaped in the form a bowie knife, with one curve at the end and a straight end. Coming across a hut that accordingly was the place where the officer was stationed, Walter and Brady stationed themselves at opposite ends of the doorway, their firearms loaded and ready to shoot at a moment's notice. The entranceway had its door designed in a manner in which it was opened from the inside, so a door breach involving the use of a sudden barge-in was attainable. At Ben's silent count to three, a successful door was initiated; whereupon Sergeant Ben as squad leader was the first to forcefully push his way through, with Walter and Brady following. As Ben took a step forward into the hut, the others positioned themselves alongside Ben at opposite sides, their muskets pointed and ready to fire at a moment's notice, lest some redcoat had the guts to lay a clever ambush against them.

"Clear," said Ben.

"Clear," informed Walter.

"All clear," said Brady. "Anything unusual?"

Ben checked the surroundings of the hut. On a crude wooden desk opposite the entranceway was a single candle on a wooden candlestick, as well as a yellowed, worn-out paper with some crude and smudged handwriting, most likely written by a British officer before he fled the scene.

Ben eyed the document carefully, and so did Brady. "Looks like a love letter, doesn't it," observed Brady.

Suddenly Ben became suspicious. _A love letter?_ he asked himself. _This just isn't right. I expected to find details of enemy plans and what we have is…this?_ But then it might have entered his mind that the squad's intel was misleading, as could be intended by the British, if not the Americans.

"This is surely not what we came for," Ben muttered under his breath. He sniffed around the room in a suspicious manner. "Could be a trap." Then he loudly gave the order for his squad to extricate out of the room.

"Everyone, let's get the hell outta here before more surprises…"

Suddenly a British infantryman, barging out a closet, surprised the three young men. He took a deep, brutal, plunging stab at Brady with a bayonet attached to his Land Pattern musket. The soldier was about to stab Ben, but Ben viscerally deflected the bayonet thrust by seize-holding the barrel's end with his right hand in the nick of time, deflecting the barrel's end to his left side, and putting more force into his deflection with his left hand. Walter intervened further by unsheathing Brady's sword from his back and lopping off the redcoat's head. The sight was so grotesque for Ben to witness, and Walter felt that way, too; but there was no time to make comments over such savagery, as their minds reeled over such a very intimidating near-death experience.

Ben soon took notices of Brady's critical injury, and Ben's response upon seeing him in such a state was a mixture of shock and alarm. "Brady, what the hell just happened?" he asked anxiously.

Brady struggled to speak, for pain kept shooting up his body every time he took a breath. "S-s-stabbed…is what," he answered simply.

Ben ripped open Brady's bloodied uniform coat and shirt. Blood leaked onto Brady's clothes. Any rookie doctor could tell for sure that this surely was serious bleeding Brady was suffering right now. And his wound was situated near the right upper side of his body, where his lungs were.

"My God," said Walter, leaning over, almost dazed by the sight of Brady. "This _is_ serious bleeding."

Brady was shaking and shivering; struggling in drawing each ounce of breath as he spoke while expelling every breath itself. "Ben…" he uttered. "I don't…I don't think I'll-I'll live…live long…to…"

"Brady," said Ben quickly as he struggled in putting pressure over Brady's wound. "Hey, Brady…Brady, you can't die. Not now. You know why? Because you're so very…very pretty. You are just to damn pretty for God to let you die."

But Brady kept succumbing to his wounds. He was growing pale.

"Brady? Brady?" Ben called to him, in his effort to get Brady's attention lest Brady should pass out. Then he exerted his frustration as he shook his comrade to keep him awake. "BRADY, LISTEN TO ME, GODDAMMIT!"

Brady looked at Ben weakly, his vision and his focus blurred.

"You've got a wife…and baby son, Brady," Ben said to him forcefully, in the assumption that a mention of his family back home in Williamsburg would give impetus to Brady in his struggle to keep himself alive, even for a little while longer. "They're not going to be too happy if you die on them."

As Ben struggled to keep his comrade alive, Walter was peering through his telescope while acting as lookout. French ships were just about close to getting in firing range of the redoubt, and the hut.

"Ben, for God's sakes, come on!" cried Walter. "Those Frogs are going to blow this redoubt to kingdom come within the next minute! We've got to get our arses out of here!"

Walter was right. At a distance of several hundred yards, the French ships would not make a distinction between a British-controlled redoubt, and a British redoubt with small friendly forces. And all three boys knew it.

Ben struggled to hoist up the wounded Brady and tote him over his back as he and Walter escaped the hut. Cannon fire from the French vessels blast the hut, including its surroundings. The explosions nearly knocked Ben and Walter off their feet as each of the struggle to keep balance over the uneven, parched ground, with Ben's struggle being all the more difficult on account of having to carry Brady to safety.

"Give me some goddamn cover fire!" shouted Ben.

"Right!" Walter responded.

Being a proficient shot, and one who could fire three shouts in a minute, Walter deterred as few redcoats as he could before they could get to Ben and Brady, even to the point of using his bayonet against them. Both Ben and Walter made their run out of the redoubt as Walter shot at a handful of redcoats with a handful of flintlock weapons. They evaded the shooting redcoats as best as they could. Seconds later, artillery fire from the French frigates launched another calculated barrage against the redoubt.

The young men had managed to get to a safe distance, under cover in one of the wide, deserted British trenches in the midst of the battle.

"Brady, Brady?" Ben called to his comrade again, as he struggled to revive him, even keep him awake. "Come on, Brady. You're not dying on me right now. Not this very minute."

"Ben," said Walter. "I don't think he can make it." He tried to be as sympathetic as he could, despite his exhaustion. "I'm afraid…he's a hopeless case."

"Hopeless to you," retorted Ben in a bitter manner, as she shot back a bitter look toward his friend. He faced back to Brady. Brady struggled to speak, despite his severe wounds. He could only speak very weakly, as he struggled against the spasms of struggled breathing and sheer weakness due to severe blood loss.

"You're…you're very lucky…Ben," he said in an exhaustive and weak manner. "You…you get to enjoy…the very freedom…that we colonists…are…are fighting for…right now…and…and very close…to winning."

"Every man's got to have his reward for doing good deeds, Brady," Ben said to his dying comrade, as he fought back tears. "What'll yours be?"

"H-h-heaven," Brady answered with a weak strain in his voice.

"Well, it seems you're going to get it a mite sooner," said Ben, forcing a manly smile. For Ben, he hoped such a reward for his devoted comrade would be too good to be true; especially that Brady was now near death's door.

"I…I hope…so," said Brady. "That…that be good…wouldn't…it?"

Ben nodded silently. Brady coughed up as blood trickled down his parched mouth. Brady coughs up. Blood trickles down Brady's parched mouth. His eyes started to have an ominously glassy appearance as if every part of his body was ready to break down and die, which it was.

From the knoll, Walter could spot the stars and stripes waving on a flag-bearer's staff as Washington's army made its push into the territory. The banner with thirteen red and white stripes, a navy-blue rectangle bedecked with thirteen stars arranged in a circle. It was tattered due to the wear and tear of battle, but it was waving proudly, triumphantly, against its foes.

"Ben, look! Our…our flag!" Walter exclaimed ecstatically.

Ben turned his head. _Triumph_, he thought to himself. _And at such a great cost…_ He hoped that the sight of their beloved flag would cheer Brady up.

"You see, Brady?" asked Ben. "That's our flag. The flag that's fluttering yonder?" He faced Brady again. "You know what that means, don't you. Means we're close to winning here."

Brady gave a hopeless nod. But in his mind there was relief; relief that what he fought for and was dying for right now was not fought in vain. Ben also experienced that kind of relief when he knew that if Brady was going to die, he would not die in vain.

But Brady had one more thing to say to his friend – about his sweetheart.

"Tell Fanny I love her, Ben," said Brady. It was his last request to the friend and superior officer he always served at his side. "Don't you ever forget, or I'll…" He breathed a struggled breath before racking up a great couth. "…Just tell Fanny that…" He cut off. He could not continue.

Brady passed away with his eyes open and his mouth agape. Sadly, Walter shuts Brady's eyes out of respect for the heroic man. Ben got carried away with his grief over the loss of his comrade as he started sobbing his body after Brady breathed his last and died, holding him close like a brother.

* * *

Ben kept feasting his eyes at baby Joey. Ben had lost his father thirty years ago during the Roanoke skirmish back in 1762. Ben was only four years old at that time. But Joey lost his father at a much of a younger age than Ben did. At least Ben got to know his father for a time. Joey never did have the opportunity to get to know his father fully.

Ben could remember the commanding officer of the Fifth Regiment, Capt. Michael Howell, making mention of the fact that it was he who told Ben's mother about the death of his father when he came over to the Merrimans' to recruit Ben into the Regiment.

"Lissie, he is so adorable," Elizabeth murmured dearly, her avid blue eyes filled with fascination for the infant child.

"Aye, he is," agreed Felicity in the same manner, as she took her own gaze at the infant boy, too. "Aren't you," she said tenderly.

Baby Joey made cooing sounds in response.

"All right," said Mrs. Wythe. "I say we let poor Fanny take her seat."

"I agree," said Lady Duffman. "The settee is over there, next to the back window."

Fanny got seated comfortably on the settee, just as Lady Duffman said she would.

After nearly a minute, Joey began to cry, for he was hungry. And Fanny nursed him. She was first taught by her parents on that matter, and later on, she got the knack for it. The sight of baby Joey nursing on his mother's left breast made Felicity feel some sort of motherly longing. Felicity swore to herself that if she had her own child she would do exactly what Fanny was doing right now to Joey.

Mr. Wythe, wanting to present a more manly aspect of his entire surroundings, presented both Ben and Walter with Brady's strange katana-like sword. Ben took the sword and gives it to Walter when he asked for it.

"What is with this strange-looking sword you have, Master Wheaton?" Lady Duffman asked curiously to Walter.

"Tis a sword, madam," said Walter simply. "And a very strange one at that." Walter, for some humorous reason, had some tendencies with stating the obvious.

Walter wielded Brady's katana-like sword like a make-believe martial arts expert. He smashed one of Lady Duffman's ornate China potteries, astonishing Lady Duffman and the rest of her guests.

Needless to say, the astonishment was greater on the part of Lady Duffman because one of her chinaware had just fallen victim to Walter's martial-arts style sword strike.


	8. Henry Atherton

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 8

Henry Atherton

Felicity and Ben rushed out of the parlor room entranceway and into the backyard garden area of Duffman Manor, with Felicity in the lead and beside her beloved's right side, holding and tugging at his hand. Usually it would be the man who would lead his woman, but between Felicity and Ben the circumstances would have been perceived as unusual, at least in the eyes of conventional colonial society. Felicity, being the bold, headstrong, and impatient girl she was, would have no shame in acting a bit naughty towards Ben whenever she and he were alone together.

Duffman Manor Garden totaled an estimate of three acres. Because Duffman Manor was located at the East End of Richmond, some of its landscape overlooked the near and far end of the James River. A faded rectangular brick walkway situated at the center of the yard led from the back end entrance and across the partially cleared grassy landscape, as the landscape itself was graced with dark green trees. The landscape itself was bedecked with a colorful assortment of flowers and other appealing garden plants; flowers such as Sweet William, petunias, germaniums, pink, white, yellow, and bright red roses yielded heavenly beauty to the Manor garden. A pale yellow-painted octagonal-shaped pavilion with arched windows on each side, an opening at the right hand side, and a pyrimidical capstone-form roof was situated at the west wing of the Manor garden. Every side of the main walkway was enhanced by faded soft-gray stone sculptures depicting classic Greek cupids. Beside the left hand side of the walkway was a long bench.

Elizabeth happened to catch up with both Felicity and Ben in the Manor garden.

"So where are you two lovebirds off now?" she asked them, though the question was mostly pointed at her best friend.

"To the garden is what," said Felicity.

"To sit on the bench, making love to each other?"

"Close," answered Ben.

Elizabeth sighed. She wished her beloved Phillip Michaels were here right now so that she and Phillip would get to do the very same thing that she thought the two lovebirds would do.

"You'll be all right, Lissie?" Elizabeth asked her best friend.

"Mm-hmm," answered Felicity.

"I'd like to have another look at the Wythes' Baby," said Elizabeth.

"He is indeed mighty adorable, isn't he," remarked Felicity.

"I'll say," Elizabeth agreed wholeheartedly. "I'll see you around later, Lissie."

"You, too, Elizabeth," said Felicity. Elizabeth dashed back into the Manor house, and both Felicity and Ben continued on their way. They seated themselves on a marble bench near a well-trimmed bush, with Ben seated on the left side of the bench, beside Felicity on his right.

"So…" began Ben to Felicity. "Do we make love, just like what Elizabeth assumed we would be doing?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go about it by a little…bit," Felicity informed him a mite awkwardly. "After all, I really can't think of anything else to do at the moment." She remembered a time when both she and Ben kissed each other in the lips. But that was a long time ago. But even then, they still knew each other, like brother, like sister.

Both young man and young woman beheld each other's countenances, like a couple in love, which they were. Their faces inched closer in a slow but dramatic manner. Their lips met, and they pressed further, as both lovers were propelled by their passions. Their carnal desires would have overtaken them to the furthest level…

That was, if it hadn't been for Walter, who arrived to the scene. He cleared his throat, and whistled a rather burlesque catcall, which startled both Ben and Felicity that they both looked at him, startled. Walter now had his arms crossed.

"Wow," said Walter sarcastically. "I have never seen such a scene in my entire life where both young man and young woman start slobbering over each other, getting themselves…"

"Walter, do shut up!" ordered Felicity in wanton exclamation. "'Tis none of your business, really. And what are you doing here in _our_ own little private spot?" she challenged him in a superior manner, her inflection down.

"Fetch my man is all," retorted Walter. Then he faced Ben. "Hey, Benster. Let's say we go to shoot off some flintlocks like crazy before you start getting all drunk-up and besotted further with your ginger sweetheart."

_Oh, heavens_, Ben thought to himself in exasperation. He sort of disliked having his time with his Lissie disrupted, especially by his friend. Felicity made a cross face at Walter's discourteous remark over the way he conveyed the affair between her and Ben.

"Don't make me beg, Ben," said Walter. "I won't do it, you know.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "All right," he said, as he got up from the bench. "You'll…you'll be all right, Lissie?" he asked his sweetheart.

"I'll be all right," said Felicity with confidence, as she tenderly held Ben's hand. "Don't worry about me."

Ben ceded a nod of acknowledgement and trudged off with Walter.

Felicity remained on the bench for a minute and a half, and then arose from the marble bench before ambling across the stone walkway. She took a stroll through a bit of "cross-country" which involved crossing non-pavement areas until she reached a grassy area with a view of the calmness of the James River at a distance.

_Oh, so beautiful_, she thought to herself gladly. Felicity soaked in as much of the sights as she could into her mind as a gentle breeze played with her ringer red hair. It was not often she and her family could come and visit such a heavenly place like this. Much of the time her family mainly stayed back home, but that was mainly due to the war, when all the fighting made traveling across the Colonies incredibly dangerous. Now that the fighting stopped, business could go back on as before, and so could travel, which was why the Duffmans could send out invitations to the ball they were hosting right now.

For Felicity, Duffman garden was a further enhancement to the many garden experiences she had as a child. She could remember the many days when she would go with Elizabeth to the gardens at the back of the Coles' house.

Probably the most notable experience was the one when Elizabeth asked her about a certain kind of pink flower, which Felicity identified as Sweet William, and began digressing that her brother William was not really all that tidy, given his penchant for mischief and mud puddles. It was notable to her because that was the day prior to her birthday when she overheard the plot about Governor Dunmore stealing the gunpowder from the town magazine whilst hiding behind the bushes.

But what made these experiences enjoyable the most for her was being able to enjoy them with someone, with a friend. In most of her childhood cases, it was Elizabeth. But as she grew older, she began longing for her Ben's presence. Felicity wished that Ben were here with her, when they could enjoy this heavenly beauty together, arm in arm.

Her meditative mood was broken, however, when she became startled by a young manly voice behind her back.

"A lady should not go unescorted," it said briskly and in a tone of supreme but supercilious air of confidence.

Startled, her mouth agape, and right hand at her heart, Felicity turned herself to face whoever was behind her.

It was a devilishly handsome man almost the same age as Ben and Walter. His auburn-brown hair, which was arranged in a ponytail style similar to Ben's was tied up by a satin black ribbon, and reflected the glitter of the April sunlight. His coat was chocolate-brown, his black-buckled shoes shined, his stockings snowy white, and his breeches of medium-green color. He possessed a personality that was lively on the external aside but somewhat disheartened on the internal side.

Immediately, Felicity started reminiscing briefly on what Mrs. Fitchett told her seven years ago back in 1774, during a typical September day at the Merriman General Store.

_"Well, well!" said Mrs. Fitchett, who gasped as if she was surprised. "The dear girl! Grown so tall and pretty! Hair as bright as marigold! I am sure __she'll__ have the lads flocking about, Mr. Merriman." She turned from Mr. Merriman to Felicity. "Are you ready for the lads to come a-courting, Miss Felicity?"_

Those last words echoed at the back of Felicity's mind. And such a memory goaded her to face Henry Atherton with awe.

_Could what Mrs. Fitchett had been saying to me since I was nine…could it be true?_ Felicity asked herself in awe. This same memory kept popping in the recesses of her mind whenever she was introduced to one suitor after another since she reached the age of fifteen, currently the age of courting, since the two years during the war.

Atherton began to feel so smitten with Felicity. Immediately his infatuation with the girl became so strong that every time he gazed at her his heart would go into leaps and bounds and he would start experiencing flutters in his stomach. However, Atherton seemed to be unable to restrain his longings, and that made Felicity a mite suspicious about his behavior. But Felicity kept her suspicions to herself for the time being, in order not to escalate an already tense situation that would be too much for her teenage body to handle.

"You…um…you haven't told me your name," Felicity spoke to him rather hesitantly, still confused about who the hell that young man was in the first place, who never so much as bothered to introduce himself first.

"Henry Atherton,…Miss," replied Atherton as quickly as he could with a bit of hesitation after introducing his name and addressing Felicity as "Miss". He made a drawling smile. "Yours?" he queried.

"Miss Felicity Merriman,…sir," replied Felicity, still hesitantly.

"Dare I presume, Miss?" Atherton asked Felicity in a drawling tone of voice. "That you're the most beautiful girl in the whole world?"

"You may," said Felicity, as she flashed to Atherton her sweet smile, even if she acted somewhat awkwardly.

Atherton slowly started looking down, surreptitiously staring at Felicity's bosom, and all of a sudden, found himself unable to take his eyes off it. Felicity, being suspicious of Atherton's behavior, slowly trailed his gaze, until she notices that she is staring at…her breasts. Shrinking back and flinching, she put both hands on her breasts and shot at him a stare of annoyance.

"Really, Atherton," she scolded. "'Tis most rude for a gentleman to be staring at woman's bosom."

"Was I staring at your bosom?" Atherton asked, unable to keep himself from smirking.

"I should think you were, for your gaze seemed to point directly at my chest," Felicity retorted.

"Nay!" exclaimed Atherton indignantly.

Felicity put her hands down and kept them together. "You disgust me, Atherton," she said, "In trying to deny your lustful leering upon my own body."

"Hmm…" Atherton mused, while Felicity was speaking.

"And if you start thinking of violating me, I shall scream for help," Felicity continued in her saucy and superior manner, thinking that she would have family and friends at her side, rushing to her aid out of love and devotion to her, if something like that should ever occur under their watch.

"And who would come?" challenged Atherton, his inflection down. "Hmm?"

"My beloved," bespoke Felicity rather determinedly. "He will _never_ stand watching while a young girl like me is violated by men like _you_."

Atherton decided to test Felicity, to see how far she would go to defend her dignity, as well as how far he could go in a hypothetical situation of snatching her for himself. "I would kill him if he tried," he said.

Felicity gasped, right hand at her heart. "You wouldn't!" she exclaimed. At least she hoped that such would not be the case for her.

"And why not?" Atherton queried in a challenging tone of voice.

"If you did so, I should never have it in my heart to forgive you of such a horrendous deed," said Felicity, trying to regain her confidence in speaking with the young man. "And my father heard of this, he would make sure that you paid a most terrible price for which your deed was done."

"And what if I should kidnap you?" Atherton queried further.

"For shame, Atherton, talking about such indelicate things to a young lady," chided Felicity, trying to overcome the usual feelings of shock that every young lady her age would have over a young man speaking of such things to her. "If you did, I should do all in my power to resist you until I draw my last breath."

"But then I should kill you so I can take advantage of you," Atherton persisted.

"You would not live long if you did this, for the hand of justice is swift against wrongdoers, and does not rest until you have met it in a most horrendous fashion," Felicity warned him.

"What do you mean?" asked Atherton.

"My father and mother would make sure that you paid the price of your cruelty…by meeting your fate on the gallows," said Felicity.

"Huh."

"'Tis not something most people look forward do," Felicity said to Atherton in a serious manner, hoping that Atherton himself would take such a fate seriously.

But Atherton had a rather different opinion on life and death matters, especially those concerning his very self.

"But 'tis for me," Atherton stated simply.

Atherton, being somewhat pessimistic about life, thought to himself that such a fate would be a blessing for him. For a long time, Atherton had been smitten with other young ladies close to Felicity's age, but most young ladies had never wanted to be with him. His proneness to leering at young ladies was what freaked them out, and gossip around New York convinced parents that this man had ulterior motives to take their daughter's hands in courtship and in marriage. Such gossip alienated Atherton from other people, and other young men with their sweethearts grew a bit cautious in his presence.

"Pray, do tell why," said Felicity, who was now getting concerned over Atherton's attitude with life.

"Because I _hate_ life," Atherton spat, his voice now growing bitter. "And I keep wishing several times that I died. Methinks, I would be inclined to do something that can gratify my lustful senses before I suffered and died for it.

"That is sad," Felicity said to Atherton, trying to be sympathetic to him. "For if that is so, there would be little incentive for another lady to court you if you had such an attitude."

_So much for Miss Felicity's advice, _Atherton thought to himself rather bitterly. _No woman ever wanted me. _"Would that anybody give a damn," he said in bitter reply.

Felicity thought that this conversation was going to far from what she deemed to be comfortable for a young lady like herself to discuss. "I really think this conversation is going a bit too far, and I should very much like to take my leave of you, if I may say," she said in a formal manner suitable for proper a young lady.

But then, even with his pessimistic viewpoints on life, does Atherton still have a human side?

Felicity was about to take a backward step when Atherton's speaking stops her.

"Not yet, Miss," he persuaded, not wanting Felicity to go away. For him, there was still so much of her to soak into his head. Felicity kept her gaze on Atherton.

"All this…is not my intent," Atherton tried to assure Felicity. "I'm far too civilized." Sort of…for Atherton, that is.

"I should hope so," Felicity said simply.

Atherton cleared his throat and prepared to speak more pieces of his very own self. "I suppose that you'll probably want to know a little about my own smitten self," he said, feeling very much carried away in unburdening some of his thoughts to a girl now fancied and was now obsessing over so much.

Felicity shot cautious glances at Atherton, as well as her surroundings, lest someone should overhear her. "Only if you feel comfortable about doing so yourself," she spoke somewhat cautiously.

"Very well," said Atherton. He prepared to speak his mind. "I'm, as I've just said, a smitten soul, wishing for some girl to take my outstretched hand, for which has not happened since the day I reached my age of adulthood.

"That must be sad for you, Mr. Atherton," Felicity said sympathetically.

"And…I'm from New York," Atherton added further. Atherton himself was from a fairly prominent family. His family had arrived from England to the Colonies around the late 1750s.

"From New York, you say?" Felicity queried diplomatically in her making sure that she got every fact of Atherton right in her head.

"Aye. New York it is," Atherton said simply again.

"My best friend's father went there one time…when I was ten, and when she was ten, due to his Loyalist leanings," Felicity informed him, hoping such information would stimulate Atherton's interest in continuing the conversation.

"A pity," said Atherton. "Who is your best friend?" he queried inquisitively.

"I'm…I'm not exactly sure whether to give such information away to a stranger like you, Mr. Atherton," Felicity answered the young man in a hesitant manner. "Especially one as mysterious to me…as you."

"Oh, believe me, young miss, I am a very good secret-keeper," Atherton reassured Felicity in a diplomatic manner. "I promise I shall tell…no one."

Felicity decided to give her reply some thought. "Well…I suppose 'twouldn't hurt to tell you," she said to him. "My best friend…is Elizabeth Cole."

"Interesting," Atherton broke in quickly. "Where was she from?"

"She said she came from England," said Felicity. "Eight years ago…when she was nine."

"My family was from England, so to speak," Atherton informed Felicity further. "From County Lancaster." He took a deep breath. "Like the others in my family, I…have Loyalist leanings."

"That's exactly where my best friend was from," said Felicity, feeling that Atherton was getting pretty interested about her best friend. "And she's…a Loyalist."

"Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you think…Miss?"

"I suppose…" said Felicity. It seemed apparent now that Atherton was really interested in Felicity. The man possessed a rather tortured personality. In effect, he was a smitten soul; for a girl like Felicity. Sympathy on Felicity's part should be justified, but to her, Atherton was a mystery. And a strange one at that._ Tis strange_, she thought simply to herself. It was Felicity's spunk and faerie charms that made Henry Atherton feel so smitten with her.

But Felicity was not really interested with him. Inside her, she felt that her good looks and charms were acting too much of a curse. She didn't want to court Atherton; she wanted to court Ben, and God willing, to have relations in a married life to the man she loved with all her heart, and to bear whatever children God would give her – with Ben and Ben only. If she were forced into marriage with Atherton, she would be very unhappy, even if Atherton was the richest man in the entire world. And Felicity knew full well that her father would never do such a thing for any of his daughter that would make them unhappy, and that included Felicity herself.

Hence, she decided to end the conversation once and for all by stating further things about herself, including her political affiliation.

"But for your information, Mr. Atherton," she continued, "since you mention yourself as a _Loyalist_, _I_ hold _Patriot_ leanings. And the possibility of ever taking your hand in courtship is really going to be very unlikely between the two of us, since _I_ am in love with a Patriot who has just served in the war, and his name…is Benjamin Davidson."

Atherton made a wry face in reply. Without a word, he departed from the scene, feeling very much rejected.

"Davidson…whoever the hell he is…" he muttered the name bitterly, his mind racing as to who the hell was his rival who was in love with that Merriman girl very much.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ben and Walter were both engaged in target practicing at another area of the Duffman garden distant from the Manor house. Walter fired a single arrow from a longbow at a circular target made of gathered and compacted hay. Then Ben took aim with a Brown Bess musket and fired a single shot. The shot impacts directly in the arrow itself.

Walter guffawed rather heartily over the stunt.

"Challenging, wasn't it, eh?" Walter asked his buddy.

"Quite so," Ben said simply in his reserved manner, yet having a feeling of relief that he his proficiency with firearms was of fairly excellent standing.

"I'd bet the bottom of one of my godforsaken and totally unreliable Continental bills spawned by the Congress that even Brady could best you in that sport," Walter remarked. Because Matthew Brady was the marksman of Ben's squad of the Fifth Regiment, Walter's skill with humor was what could cheer Ben over Brady's loss, which he could still feel, even if it was a year ago.

Ben heaved an exhaustive-sounding sigh. "I don't doubt it," he remarked in a rather wry manner.

* * *

In the parlor room of the Duffman Manor house, Elizabeth was busying herself to playing with little Joey on a carpet rug. Mr. Wythe was pored over the _Virginia Gazette_ and Mrs. Wythe was guiding Fanny on her needlework.

One of the Duffmans' well-dressed footmen arrived at the scene, carrying a silver tray, with a cream-colored envelope.

"A letter has just arrived this morning, addressed to a… Miss Elizabeth Cole," he announced in a supercilious tone of voice. "I was told she is here."

"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Elizabeth excitedly as she jumped up. She hoped that the letter would be from her beloved Phillip Michaels. She immediately took the letter from the tray. "Thank you, kind sir," she said in gratitude.

The footman made a light, formal bow and took his leave of the room. Elizabeth proceeded took her leave of the room as well.

"Please excuse me," she murmured to the Wythes as courteously as she could. After making a curtsy, Elizabeth rushes out of the room.

Elizabeth took a seat near the doorway close to a wall outside of the room. Then she slowly broke the seal and tenderly unfolded the letter in a graceful manner.

Much to her longing hope, the letter was indeed from Phillip Michaels.

_Addressed to Duffman Manor_

_c/o Miss Elizabeth Cole_

_My dearest Elizabeth,_

_It is to my hope that this letter reaches you before the night of the ball. I have had some studies to catch up on at the College. I intend to be on my way to Duffman Manor at the soonest possibility before the ball, and I hope to see you there, as you hope to see me. Fret not, my dearest._

_Your affectionate beaux,_

_Phillip_

Elizabeth held the letter close to her nose and took a deep, exhilarating breath. She was really looking forward to Phillip's advent to the ball, and her wish was coming true; or rather, close to coming true. She could also hardly believe it, too, for Phillip was immensely busy with his studies at the College.

Her euphoric mood was interrupted, however, when her mother came across her.

"Well, my dear, you seem quite rapturous today," said Mrs. Cole.

"'Tis just about Phillip, Mama," Elizabeth answered dreamily. "He has just said in a letter that he is coming.

"Do let me see," Mrs. Cole requested of her daughter concerning the love letter from Phillip, trying not to sound unkind to her daughter. Elizabeth unfolds the letter and hands it to her mother. Her mother pores over it.

"Phillip is coming, I hope," said Mrs. Cole.

"He's…um…he's busy at the College," said Elizabeth in a hesitant and bashful manner typical of a young lady her age. "He just said yesterday that he will come around the evening, mayhap at the start of the ball."

"Hmm…" Mrs. Cole mused thoughtfully. "It mystifies me, however, as to why he neglects to mention the exact time."

"Phillip…wouldn't sure as to when exactly he will arrive," Elizabeth answered her mother in her same hesitant manner.

"Well, he had better arrive soon before the ball, or I'll personally take it out on him for neglecting _you_," Mrs. Cole said to her daughter determinedly.

"Mama, please; you mustn't think such things," Elizabeth said to her mother pleadingly. "I do believe Phillip to be a kind-hearted and sensible man. Like Father."

Mrs. Cole gave a sympathetic nod of agreement to her daughter, secretly hoping that such would be indeed the case of Phillip as Elizabeth has just said.

In a few seconds, she looked on from the entranceway to her husband, who was at this point playing poker cards with Mr. Merriman in the grand card room for relaxing recreation. They're talking about various things, such as Felicity and Ben's affair, Mr. Cole's stay in New York during the War, and affairs back in New York. Such a sight of friendship between the two men, despite being on former political sides, gave her a feeling of relief inside her, especially that both sides fought each other over the course of the war. This sight of friendship rekindled Mrs. Cole hope and gladness that divisiveness between Patriots and Loyalists would be healed eventually. And it also rekindled hope within Elizabeth as well, for that would mean that her friendship with Felicity Merriman would last forever.

"…So…you could pretty much say that New York was the safest haven?" Mr. Merriman asked Mr. Cole, as he lighted Mr. Cole's pipe.

"For us Loyalists," Mr. Cole replied simply and briskly. "In a manner of speaking." His curly black-brown hair glistened a little in the bathing sunlight from one of the tall windows of the card room, and his brown eyes were kind. For a man in the prime of his middle-age, he was still quite handsome, and his face carried with him the strains of experiences with fear and anxiety in his stay at New York, and the past worries of whether his family back in Williamsburg would be all right.

"I gather 'twasn't easy to be separated from your family," Mr. Merriman remarked, as he puffed his pipe. With both Mr. Merriman and Mr. Cole being family men, topics about family members would sometimes enter their discussions.

"Twasn't." Mr. Cole dealt out a single poker card. "But the current situation in the other colonies is so…rough…so to speak, that my staying in New York would have been deemed proper for my own good. For my body at least, if not my mind."

"Hmm…" Mr. Merriman mused thoughtfully and curiously.

The two men continued conversing with each other through the rest of the afternoon. Seconds later, Mr. Cole is distracted by the sight of Ben practicing his "acrobatic" swingings with a Brown Bess. Walter is at the front, at attention like a superior officer to Ben.

"Fine lad your apprentice is, even if he was a Patriot," Mr. Cole remarked musingly.

"'Tis something that my Lissie observes on certain occasions, when Ben gets to breath the fresh, peaceful air, after serving his time in the hell of war," Mr. Merriman informed him.

"I hope he does not have an inflated sense of self worth in him, or he'll be the death of your daughter." It wasn't surprising that Mr. Cole was aware of Ben and Felicity's relationship with each other, as those things were discussed during Ben's recuperation back at Williamsburg.

"I can be confident that such isn't the case, Mr. Cole," said Mr. Merriman.

"Hmm…" Mr. Cole said thoughtfully. "I hope the man that my Elizabeth takes a fancy with does not have that case of inflated self-worth. That leads to inordinate arrogance, and such arrogance has always ruined many a man.

Mr. Merriman cachinnated to himself genially in response. "As well as success, so Mr. Franklin says," he remarked, in reference to America's renowned contemporary philosopher, Benjamin Franklin.

"You have been reading _Poor Richard's Almanac_, haven't you, Mr. Merriman," Mr. Cole seemed to observe, based on Mr. Merriman's mention of Franklin's name.

"I took the liberty to indulge in his fine literary works during my off-hours from the store. In the evenings of course, with the family together."

Mr. Cole leaned closer. "This Mr. Franklin, so you seem to imply, does seek to lead men to wiser ways," he remarked.

"'Tis his mission, I gather," Mr. Merriman answered simply.

Mr. Cole mused for a moment. "I would also gather that he loves battling with Folly herself," he speculated. "I wonder if he was a fighter…himself."

Mr. Merriman burst into laughter, and so did Mr. Cole, as they shared a bottle brandy.

* * *

A/N (1): To give readers some insight into what is going on in Henry Atherton's mind, I intend to share with all of you a "crush" situation that occurred during my freshman year at CUA. At CUA I had some sort of boyish infatuation with a pretty teenage girl by the name of Mary Linn, who had vibrant, wavy ginger-colored hair (maybe ginger-blonde), sparkling hazel eyes, and fair skin. She was originally from Wisconsin, a year younger than me (she's 18 and I'm 19), was Catholic, and was in her freshman year at CUA. It is to my keen observation that her feminine charms and her infectious smiles could literally turn a man on. Those types of "infatuation symptoms" I was experiencing got on to me every time I saw a pretty girl; however, those "symptoms" of lovesickness, which I dubbed the "Mary Linn Syndrome", rose in greater levels when it came to seeing Mary, and those "symptoms" could fluctuate at various levels as long as I was in Mary's presence. Most likely that was what my Henry Atherton character was experiencing. (Much of what is known about Mary Linn is currently unknown, remains closed-doors and kept under wraps, but further information about her is withheld due to privacy concerns. This information is guaranteed to be accurate as of the year 2009 A.D.) This mention is supposed to give readers a fairly general idea as to what is going on behind Henry Atherton's smitten mind.

Personally, I wasn't that ready to date…I mean, court, a girl on campus at that point, and neither was Mary; when I last talked with her, she was considering a religious vocation; and if that were the case, I didn't want to get in her way. The infatuation with her was so invasive for my mental concentration and my ability to think coherently in various situations, especially if I was in her presence. While a fair majority of psychologists will view this situation as normal for teens like me and Mary, it was not for me, given that most teenagers in contemporary 21st century times didn't usually take romance relationships pretty seriously, whereas I did, even at my age. And given that serious romance relationships involve serious commitment to one another, I didn't have much confidence to take the matter too far, much less pursue it further, and most likely neither was Mary.

NOTE: "Mary Linn Syndrome" is a type of condition for young men where a person gets intense flutters in his stomach on account of setting eyes on a pretty girl, and when said young man is in the presence of the girl.

Being somewhat ginger, I don't think Mary Linn is going to be a very easy girl to forget about. That usually seems to be the case with most red-haired girls. I've read about that from a book called _REDHEAD HANDBOOK: A fun and comprehensive guide to red hair and more_.

It is of note to mention that I'm not the only individual to practice such character inspiration based on experiences and interactions with other young people. If you read some history about Jane Austin, you'll find out, much to great interest, that she had a crush on a handsome and dashing young man by the name of Tom LeFroy, the man who eventually became Chief Justice of Ireland. Jane and Tom would have made a good romance match; however, the family disapproved of the match, since LeFroy was a man from the nobility, whereas Jane was something of a commoner. To alleviate this tense situation between both families, both Jane and Tom had to promise each other not to see each other again. Guess what – Jane's crush with Tom inspired her in her years as a writer to concoct one of the most dashing characters in her novel _Pride and Prejudice_: Mr. FitzWilliam Darcy.

A/N (2): The monologue from Mrs. Fitchett was derived directly from the beginning of the book _Meet Felicity_.

A/N (3): What little facial descriptions about Mr. Cole was derived directly from the Dan Andreasen illustrations in the book _Very Funny, Elizabeth._

A/N (4): "The most notable experience…" – The events of this paragraph concerning Felicity's time in the Coles' garden with her best friend were primarily from the book _Happy Birthday, Felicity_.

A/N (5): The word "contemporary" used in the context of reference to Benjamin Franklin is to denote the fact that Franklin was a modern figure in American history _for his time_.


	9. Talking Things Over

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

WARNING: This chapter contains some mild adult content. Reader's discretion (strongly) advised.

* * *

CHAPTER 9

Talking Things Over

It was already late afternoon.

Back in the Merriman guest room, Felicity proceeded to undress herself in the most sensuous manner ever. She knelt upright with her feet sideways on the queen-sized bed, with the skirts of her cream-colored gown swishing around her, making her look as though she were completely upright in a heap. After sliding off her mobcap perched atop her crowning glory and untying the ribbon in order to let the titian tresses of her hair flow sensuously past her shoulders and consigning it to her back, she then proceeded to undress herself a bit so that she could cool herself off. First she tenderly unlaced the elegant bodice of her cream-colored gown before sliding off the arm sleeves of the gown off her shoulders. After shoving her gown halfway down her body to the waist area she then proceeded to untie the fairly delicate lace suspenders holding up her chemise before instinctively checking the cleavage of her bosom. Because the lace suspenders were untied, her shoulder area, as well as upper part of her breasts near where the décolletage of her gown used to be, were now sexily half-exposed in complete, sexily round hemispherical form.

Wanting to quietly admire the ideal beauty of her feminine body, Felicity got up from the bed without bothering to slide off her gown completely and proceeded to the dresser. Standing before a fairly large oval-shaped mirror, she smoothed her hands horizontally over the upper part of her firm, nicely-developed bosom. With one hand at a time she slowly and steadily smoothed horizontally over the exposed upper part of her bosom. Then she horizontally slid sideways with both hands in opposite directions across the upper part of each breast; with her right hand on her right breast and her left hand on her left breast, in the same slow and steady manner. Felicity shut her eyes, took a deep breath, which made her bosom rise a little, and exhaled slowly, which made her bosom retract before dreamily opening her eyes and staring glassily at the mirror, as she regarded her bosom itself as a valuable beauty asset. The euphoric sensation she experienced over the actuality of her irresistibly firm and perfect bosom being smooth as silk and to the gentle touch made her feel sprightly youthful, fresh, and above all, very sexy to the man she loved at the bottom of her heart.

Seconds later, Ben made his entrance into the bedchamber after he pushed the slightly ajar door wide open in a slow and steady manner. The mirror's reflection betrayed Ben's presence, and Felicity, upon detecting Ben's presence through the mirror's reflection, jumped back, facing him in a startled state, with her mouth agape, and her right hand at her heart nearest her exposed cleavage.

"Ben!" Felicity squeaked in an unladylike tone of voice, immediately turning around to face him. With mouth agape in shocked dismay, she was holding her loosed undergarments over her body, with her arms crossed over them.

"What?" asked Ben with an open-hand gesture.

"Ben, really!" Felicity declared crossly. "'Tis most inconsiderate to invade a girl's privacy!"

"Well, your door was open," Ben insinuated. "And…"

That certainly wasn't enough to convince Felicity of being negligent about her privacy. "Even so!" she protested further right away in her usual fiery and indignant manner of speaking.

Ben outstretched his hands in an expression of "what-do-I-care" before putting his hands down.

"Can I come in?" he asked simply.

Felicity just gave a cross sigh of exasperation. "Oh, all right," she said in slight, toned-down irritance. "Step inside."

Ben made a grin in his face, mouth closed, as he stepped inside the bedchamber. Plopping on a desk chair near a desk, he takes off his black riding boots, his waistcoat, straightjacket, and shift and casts them aside on a dressing chair. Now Ben's body was fairly naked, save for keeping his breeches on.

"Ben, why are you doing that?" asked Felicity curiously, though she couldn't help herself getting more and more drawn to the shape of Ben's body. To her, he was a tall and fairly strong-built Adonis.

"It's stuffy in here," Ben protested. For a fairly hyperactive lad like him, even pleasant spring seasons in Virginia would not suffice to cool off his body after rigorous activities. "Besides, I wanna relax."

He plopped down on the bed at his right side and laid back his body in the most luxurious manner, as if it had been a long time since he got to sleep on the bed, after being used to sleeping on rough ground floors during his career in Washington's Army. Now a semi-scantily clad Felicity decided to spend time with her Ben and so she lay back with him, beside his left side.

Felicity thought thinks that Ben was eyeing on her bosom, which made her look at him a tad suspiciously. She was having her beautiful bosom just an inch near Ben's chest whether intentionally or not. Ben was now faced with a perfectly formed bosom near his body, and the temptation to make contact with it grew so strong within his manly mind. The thought of being able and allowed to come into tactile contact with such a bosom as that of Felicity's – with a color as that of creamy-pink, and firm and smooth to the touch of a man, made his carnal hunger even greater. But just as he was contemplating over whether to lay even a manly finger over such an irresistible asset of a sweet young girl…

"Don't you dare even think of sliding your hands down my bodice, or I'll see in you as nothing but a detestable pervert," spoke Felicity in a rather disapproving manner. Even if it was Ben at her side, she still had some degree of self dignity to preserve in herself.

"Honestly, Lissie," said Ben with a chuckle. "I never do things like that. Then he muttered in a low voice, "Not with you, anyway."

Felicity widened her eyes. Her mind was now alert. "I heard that," she said quickly.

"Heard what?" asked Ben.

"The part where you said, 'Not with me, anyway.' What is that supposed to mean?" Felicity asked her beloved anxiously.

Ben chuckled again in response. To him, Felicity's implication was one of unfaithfulness, which was what was making him a mite nervous. But he hid it. Felicity started glancing crossly at him in suspicion yet again.

"Benjamin Davidson, surely you haven't been flirting with other girls, have you?" Ben gave Felicity a frank look. "Because if you did, you would surely break my heart."

Ben's demeanor, reflected in his face, was rather wry in nature. "Well…um…" he began in a matter-of-fact way. "I was almost _forced_ to…"

"Really?" interrogated Felicity in a rather challenging manner with her inflection down, her eye widened in surprise. "Pray, do tell," she ordered.

"Don't you remember me telling you folks in one of my war stories about what happened to that Loyalist woman who tried to cross me with all her lewdness?" he asked his Lissie rather rhetorically with a small chuckle in his voice.

* * *

Long ago, back during the war…

A young maiden with Loyalist leanings wanted to flirt with Ben. The girl had ginger-colored hair, mostly auburn-ginger, which was bushy. Her eyes were blue-green. She was nearly the same age as Felicity. And her hair was let down in the most sensual manner ever.

But now, the girl was back with Ben. And to Ben she was just like Felicity. And yet…and yet…

Look, Miss, I can't really do that," Ben said to the girl, trying to be a little diplomatic. "I have a sweetheart, you know."

"Then forget all about that sweetheart you left behind in your toy-soldiering," the girl replied in such a girlishly sweet voice. Her smiles were irresistible, yet almost devilish. And her voice was sly. "You can have me."

"No," Ben replied, with a descent of inflection. "Come on. You can't just woo a man like that. You've got to open with _payment_."

"Why toil yourself with worry over money when you have a sweet girl who wants nothing more…than to be with you?" the maiden asked in a whiny tone of voice.

Dead silence. It seemed that the woman was going to get her way, no matter what.

"Lie with me," she commanded slowly and deliberately, but in a seductive manner, so deadly sweetly.

Ben felt that such an act would prick on his conscience, which was occurring right now at the back of his mind, because of the certain implication of unfaithfulness toward his sweetheart Felicity. His mind reeled, racing over what the hell to do when confronted with a situation like that. He had two choices: whether to consent, or whether to decline.

But another part of Ben was telling him that it was the perfect opportunity to know and experience a woman's touch, since it was a long time since he ever knew the closeness of woman in the past few months during the war. Ben was no god, nor saint; like any other manly man, he was vulnerable to the concupiscence and lusts of the flesh, both literally and figuratively. And in his case, the meaning was quite literal when it came to this woman.

And he was starting to find himself being drawn into the action. And resistance was hard. Immediately Ben could mentally compare such a circumstance as that with the circumstance of Potiphar's daughter having the desire to flirt shamelessly with the biblical Joseph, and actually having the gall to do so.

But Ben had one more card of resistance to play before even considering such consent with sexual favor. But his main objective at this point was find a way out of this situation.

"What?" Ben asked the girl, acting with incredulity.

"Lie with me," the woman pleaded like a little girl.

"You can't be serious," said Ben rhetorically. "I've just told you, I've got a sweetheart back home. In Williamsburg. She's not going to be too happy if I leave her…for _you_."

"She is nothing…" the woman said with great slyness. "…Compared to _me_."

Now Ben was beginning to suspect some kind of devilish plot to unleash a flood of heartbrokenness between him and his beloved Lissie. He was now confronted with a choice between staying true to a girl whom he might not see frequently during his career in the Fifth Regiment and consenting to a girl, whom he personally did not know, who almost resembled his Lissie herself. He tried to break himself free from the overwhelming storm of inordinate desires related to carnal lust.

"I think you're becoming a heathen influence on me, Miss," he said with determination, putting deliberation on every word so the girl could get his meaning and waving her off with his right hand.

"But…we're married," the girl said. This lie was deliberate, and it was said in the hopes of gaining the sympathy of Ben.

"You're just being delusional," declared Ben.

"Are we not of one flesh?" the young girl pressed further, acting in an attractively innocent manner.

"No, we're still two fleshes," said Ben, trying to be final in the matter. "And _your_ flesh…" he continued, pointing his right finger at the maiden, "…Should lie somewhere else."

But the seductive young maiden would not take "no" for an answer. She was determined to get her way, no matter what it cost, even if it meant sacrificing her dignity. Upon getting up from the bed in an exquisitely luxurious manner, she slowly put her arms around Ben, and planted a deep caress in his right cheek. It was so slow, so dramatic. Immediately Ben found himself getting carried away, and getting carried away, he allowed himself to follow the girl's lead. The girl lay down on the bed, and Ben lay down with her.

* * *

Felicity sat up in bed, agape. "You…you _lied_ with her?" she asked in shock and dismay.

"I couldn't help it," Ben said simply, still lying back on the pillow.

"Ben, really!" Felicity said crossly. "How could you? All this time, while I worried myself _sick_ over _your_ safety, you started flirting with another girl?"

Ben gave some thought before making his personal response. "Admittedly," said he.

Felicity gave Ben a demurely serious look. Ben could help looking at his Lissie in that manner; it just seemed so…soulful to him, and quite touching. "You could have rejected all of her advances, Ben," she said to. "You're far too noble to allow yourself to get drawn by your fancies."

"But she was half-naked!" Ben protested to Felicity out loudly. "And…and all-ar_ti_culate!"

Felicity heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment. She wished that she could do that to her Ben if she was married to him, but at this point it wasn't the right time. But to do it so soon would be scandalous and damaging to her reputation, for such actions would mark her as a whore. And a redheaded one at that.

"But do go on," Felicity prodded to her beloved in a brisk manner, as she lay down with him, giving him a look of pleading and curiosity that her spunky, emerald-green eyes reflected. "What happened next?"

"Well," Ben continued. "As I lay down with her, and got carried away by love…I think it was lust…for the girl, some things were taking place that I was only aware of…at the last second.

* * *

The seductive young woman was determined to get provocative, so that she could win Ben at her side, if only for a little while. She slid off her gown, and with a mischievous smile slowly slid her shift down only to the middle of her body until her middle was exposed in all its nakedness. Ben perceived such actions to be actions of a typical whore, and his mind was racing over what on earth the woman could want with him, since usually no respectable woman that he knew in the world of the prim and proper would ever sell her body in such a provocative manner.

The ginger-haired, fair maiden then started putting her body over Ben, in a position as one playing horsey-horsey. Ben's face was now pressed over with the girl's firm bosoms, as the girl thrust them into his face, as firmly as she could. Ben was already getting carried away with the sensation, and was now completely drunk with sex.

It was not long before the girl decides to take unfair advantage of his situation in order to gain her upper hand over him.

The girl slowly got up and retained her previous position. Slowly she moved her left hand to her right hip, wherein was hidden a small but deadly kitchen knife. In a swift stroke she tried to strike Ben with the small knife. But Ben preemptively grabbed firm hold of her knife arm, thus deflecting the knife strike.

"I just had a hunch that you had the intent to kill me," Ben said forcefully, panting with relief that the knife hadn't got him.

_Beware of pretty faces that you find…_, Ben thought to himself tensely. _For pretty faces hide an evil mind_. Just like Samson and Delilah. Except the Delilah he was confronting right now was redheaded, seductive, and now at this moment, a vicious woman who wanted nothing more than have his head on a silver platter and his body dumped in a common colonial grave.

Immediately without hesitation, the Loyalist teenage girl took deadly offense at him, by biting savagely on his left shoulder. Excruciating pain shot through Ben's shoulder, but fortunately his fairly think Fifth Regiment uniform coat sleeve absorbed the damage, thus keeping Ben's arm injury minimal. Ben was now locked in a fight with this lethal red-haired Delilah. He got kicked down the stairs, and he stumbled. But he regained his senses immediately.

The girl arrived on the scene right away, her mid area of her body still exposed, in the hopes of distracting Ben with her body even for a little while as she searched for split-second strategies to gain the upper hand against him. She made a savage dash downstairs, screaming savagely like a savage Indian on the attack. When the girl got closer, Ben sprinted to the right side of the stairway at the last second and tripped the girl, making her stumble violently on the floor. Disgusted with her whoring characteristics, not to mention her savage attacks on him, he got up and proceeded to take his hurried leave.

But before Ben could even take a step away from her, the girl grabbed him like a predatory lion. Her grip was pretty strong but pretty painful, and Ben was now having a hard time trying to keep her clawing hands off his body, while at the same time trying to ignore the pain that kept shooting up the top of his elbow, which was due to the girl trying to take a bite at him. The girl also tried to tear his clothes off, but Ben fought her off. But the girl kept persisting savagely.

His clothes were now in a state of dishevelment. Ben now knew that this savage whore of a young woman was too dangerous to his own good health to leave alone. Ben's mind reeled over the idea of whether redheads were children of Hell itself; with their fiery red hair being some sort of reflection of the fiery red fires of Hell. If there was one child of Hell that he ever encountered in his entire life in a literal sense, it would be that redhead girl. The girl was more than just a dangerous whore; she was a dangerous animal.

Summoning every ounce of courage in himself, and throwing aside all courtly manners of a gentleman, he started retaliating on the offensive, chasing after the girl as she made a run for the dining room, presumably to snatch one of the dining knives from the set table.

"I've known some Loyalist bitches in my day," Ben shouted, rage shooting into every part of his body in his sheer motivation to get rid of the girl in any way. "But you…are the ugliest…!"

* * *

Felicity winced over Ben's reflection over the idea of redheaded children being children of Hell.

"That's not fair," Felicity said resentfully.

"'Tis usually the general assumption…sadly," said Ben, trying to assure his Lissie that she was just as lovable to him as a beautiful sweetheart. "I love your vibrant ginger-red hair…and your sparkling green eyes." And he gently touched her hair, her eyes, and finally, her nose.

Felicity smiled back her sweetest smile at her beloved over the way he took a strong fancy to her outward traits; traits which most people in the Colonies would consider as characteristics of a witch. Such affection made her feel loved; feel adored.

But Felicity could not bring herself to settle contentedly over the matter of the wild and savage red-haired girl of Ben's storytelling.

"If anyone were to hear such stories, it would give the impression that red-haired people are…wicked," said Felicity with concern.

"Hmm…I guess that must be the reason why your mother is always fussing about your gentlewomanly manners and schooling," Ben remarked.

"Could there not have been a way for the woman to…settle down a bit?" asked Felicity.

Ben chuckled to himself. It was one thing for Felicity to be a little admonishing over people with "settling down", given that she had difficulty sitting still during her childhood.

"Coming from you, that sounds like…well, insincere," he remarked. "You never did learn to sit still."

"Come on, Ben. Be serious," said Felicity in a serious tone of voice.

However, Ben found it better if his Lissie didn't learn to sit still. It would be some kind of symbolism of being submissive and conforming to the norms of society. He liked the spunky Lissie, the one who didn't learn how to sit still.

Though he thought that some moderation would do for his Lissie. A balance between being active and sitting still like a proper young lady.

But Ben was woken up from his daydreaming thoughts.

"Ben," said Felicity.

"Oh," said Ben, finding himself awoken from his daydreams. "Where were we?"

"The part on the vicious woman you encountered a few years back in the war," reminded Felicity.

"Oh."

"Could there not have been a way to give the woman a fair dose of common sense into her head?" Felicity asked with descending inflection.

Ben just shook his head half-humorously. "Honest to God, Lissie, there was no way I could ever shake sense into that ginger-haired whore of a woman. Truth be told, she was mad as hell. Mad as a heifer."

Felicity couldn't help chuckling in response over Ben's witty way of relating his encounter with a barbaric young girl maiden. But then she restrained herself, for the matter is pretty serious.

"Did you get seriously hurt?" she asked.

"Well…um…aye. Yes, I did," Ben admitted in his usual hesitant manner. "But I was able to take it, thank God, and my rescue from the clutches of that…devil-woman was thanks to my Fifth Regiment buddies. When they discovered me stuffed with her half-naked body.

Felicity let out a gasp, her hand at her heart. "Oh, dear," she said in a small voice.

"Thank God 'twas them," said Ben, referring to his comrades. "If 'twas someone else discovering me right away, I'd be convicted of woman-slaughter. If not manslaughter."

Felicity laughed softly to herself over the term "woman-slaughter".

"That's not funny, you know," said Ben. "You could lose your beau that way if that was where my path took."

Felicity tried to restrain herself from laughing at this point.

"I know. I know." Felicity was trying to get serious now. "That _would_ be most dreadful to happen.

Ben manfully pulled Felicity close to his side. Felicity could feel her firm bosom pressed against Ben's side that it caused her to utter a small squeal of delight over the sensation, though she muffled her squeal.

"Good God, Lissie!" Ben exclaimed teasingly. "You sound like a piglet when you squeal that way."

"Benjamin Davidson!" Felicity exclaimed in playful dismay over such an implication of unladylike behavior when she was learning how to be a gentlewoman herself. "How dare you!"

Getting herself upright on the bed, she smacked Ben playfully over his head with her right hand. The she wiggled a few inches away from him.

After putting herself back into a fairly reclining position, Felicity affectionately took Ben's left arm and lovingly stroked it, all the way from side to side. As she stroked his arm, she became reminded of Ben looking and feeling like a young Adonis to her.

"Can you give me your other arm?" she asked her beloved in a tender manner.

Ben lent his left arm to Felicity to stroke. However, as Felicity strokes his other arm, he felt a rather sharp pain shooting up his right arm.

"Oh, dear," said Felicity. "I'm sorry, does it hurt?" she asked her beloved tactfully.

"A little," replied Ben, wincing.

Ben's arm still bore the brunt of war, a souvenir from the Siege of Yorktown. It was received when he was held up by gunpoint by a British officer by the name of Henry Cole, the cousin of Elizabeth and Annabelle Cole. Henry held Ben up at gunpoint by pressing a loaded pistol directly on his left arm as Henry held the gun on with his right hand. During the confrontation, Ben pulled the pistol's trigger, forcing the bullet to drill a hole straight into his upper elbow joint before penetrating Henry's chest area. Tough men could withstand an arm wound, but without proper medical attention Ben could have ended up losing the use of his left arm. It was thanks to his comrades in the Fifth Regiment that Ben was able to receive medical attention before being shipped back to Williamsburg after the battle.

Ben's arm injury would also remind Felicity of how he had the obligation to kill the man in battle who was a relative of her best friend Elizabeth. The Coles' reaction to Ben's deed was a mixture of sadness and anger, especially when Annabelle berated Ben over the loss of their cousin, and when Elizabeth handed the knife that Ben carried with him to battle at all times, when Ben handed her the knife for the purposes of having her wreak vengeance against him, and which Elizabeth returned to Felicity, saying that too much blood has been shed, and would not have it in her heart to deprive her best friend of the source of her happiness. It made Felicity give gratitude to God for Elizabeth's reluctant but fair understanding of the obligations of men in battle.

"I dare say that some sad history between us and the Coles will always remain in your arm wound," she said to Ben about his past wounded arm a concerned manner, as if some remnant of strife would never leave in the relations between the Merriman family and the Cole family.

"No doubt," agreed Ben. His voice carried a tinge of melancholy to what he was going to say about the Merriman-Cole relations. "Whatever happened to Henry is going to eat at me, too, because he was a relative of your best friend's family."

"Aye. He was," said Felicity.

"Is the subject getting a mite painful?" Ben asked his sweetheart.

"It looks to be."

Felicity lay back on the bed further, still thinking more of what to discuss with her beloved.

"And when I think about it, I keep hoping that God will understand," she added further.

"Huh. God…" he said, his voice trailing off. The he started muttering to himself as he got carried away with his own thoughts about God himself. "…understands but doesn't really care much…

Felicity faced Ben with a look of concern, upon hearing Ben's verbal conveying of his rather pessimistic view of God. "Why, pray, has the war made you lose trust in Providence?" she asked him.

"Almost," Ben admitted simply.

"I pity you if you feel that way," Felicity said sadly.

"Pity be damned," said Ben in a rather wry manner.

"Come on, Benjamin," Felicity admonished him a cross manner. She was usually quick to admonish anyone who seemed to have something wrong with himself or herself, even if it came to her closest friends. "Stop being bitter about yourself and tell me what is troubling you."

Ben thought harder, but started having difficulty for some reason. He just wasn't the kind of individual to unburden his personal imperfections. To his manly self, it was an implication of weakness on his part."

"I…I can't," he muttered sadly.

Felicity became stubbornly determined to get into the heart of Ben's doubts. "Then _try_, Ben," she encouraged him forcefully. "For if you do not, I cannot help you ease whatever troubles that burden your mind."

Ben heaved a cross sigh, but calms himself.

"All right," he began quickly before settling down a bit. "'Tis just that…"

Hesitancy.

"…In the past, I've lost my father," he said. "Then I lost my sister." Then I lost my sister." His beloved sister, Hannah Davidson, died in her childhood when she was six. Ben always did admire her brown-haired, brown eyed sister, with whom he was playmate during his childhood. "And all that happened when I was young. Then just a year ago I lost my long-time friend Matthew Brady. And I ask myself,…what is God telling me through all this?" His voice grew cynical. "Does he enjoy depriving certain love ones just for the amusement of seeing me twist at the back of my mind? I'm angry at him. I…I just am. I'd…I'd be almost inclined to just say that I won't believe in him anymore, just to get back at him."

But Ben's conscience could not, nor would not allow for such a thing. He never stopped believing in God, but Ben couldn't bring himself to reconcile with him completely, and hold a childlike trust in him.

Felicity had sympathy. "I, too, was angry at God for having Grandfather taken away." Her voice was thoughtful. "So you could say that this is something we have in common with each other."

"Not quite," said Ben. "Because you see, 'twas a relative of yours who died. Mine were the ones closest and most needed around my family for our well-being."

Felicity really felt hurt by Ben's tactless remark; and her feeling was reflected in the demeanor of her face. "I just don't understand how you can ever be so cold and tactless about the death of a loved one," she said sadly, as she leaned closer to her Ben. "You're not the only person to lose someone in your family that you love."

"Maybe I'm just not one for feelings…" Ben reflected.

"Well, that _is_ sad," she asserted a little determinedly. "You would be a very unchristian man if that were the case."

"What be your notion of the Christian man? Ben asked his sweetheart.

Felicity thought for a moment. Her face is impish, like a girl playing hard-to-get.

"The man who's kind," she said decisively but gently.

Ben lay back on the bed further, his head resting on his hands. "Huh," he remarked.

"And courteous," added Felicity.

"Hmm…" Ben mused thoughtfully in reply.

"And considerate."

Ben looked at Felicity. "Doesn't your beloved suit all those categories?" he asked sort of rhetorically.

"The first two," Felicity answered her beloved with a sweet, infectious smile.

Ben couldn't help smiling. "And the last one?" he asked her.

"I think so," Felicity answered, as she lay back on the bed in the same manner as Ben did.

"You think?" asked Ben, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well…" said Felicity with uncertainty, knowing not where next to continue.

"Come on, Lissie-girl," Ben said indignantly, getting up a little to face Felicity. "Be serious with me. This concerns the matter of my character. I've got feelings, too, you know."

"But you just said that you're not one for feelings," said Felicity.

"Well, maybe I've had a change of manly mind," said Ben.

Felicity turned to her beloved Ben.

"Yes, Benjamin," she answered him sweetly to his initial plea of character.

Ben brightened back in response then lay back. "Well, I'm more than glad you agree," he said finally.

"Then you must believe in all your heart that God is good to you," Felicity soothed in a motherly manner.

"That'll take some effort on my part," Ben informed his sweetheart.

"Even a little child has some faith," said Felicity in a rather dreamy manner. "Like Anne."

Ben suddenly became a mite alert Was Felicity bringing up that particular topic just to tease him and his mind again?. "Who's Anne?" he asked curiously. He might have remembered someone he encountered by the name of Anne, but that was a long time ago.

Felicity decided to refresh his memory. "Don't you remember?" she asked him, facing him. "Long ago, you encountered her back when I was little. She was the one who was taking things from the house, and when I discovered her, she was sad."

"Hmm…," Ben mused rather thoughtfully. His memories came back, as though the mention of Anne was enough to trigger the rest of some hidden memory buried beneath layers of other memories at the back of his head. "Didn't your father mention that she was employed to a certain widow named Mrs. Whitehurst?"

"She was," answered Felicity. "But poor Mrs. Whitehurst was…"

"…Taken unfair advantage of, was what you were about to say," Ben finished for her.

"Aye. From four redcoats. And she was nearly taken advantage of by one officer in the same manner. Isn't that awful?"

"I'd kill them if they were to do that to you." Ben's voice held a tinge of indignation.

"I'd join you in the fight to protect my dignity also." Her voice carried the same manner of indignation, too.

"Ben was not in the mood for having his Lissie get off topic. "Where were we?" he asked quickly, before the off-topic discussion went too far for his liking.

"Oh," giggles Felicity. "Well, Anne ran away. To Richmond. And according to Lady Duffman, she was in a most pitiable state, poor thing. So she took her in, and when she recovered she decided to work under the employ of Lady Duffman herself. And…judging from what I've seen of her, she seems to be doing all right in the house. She's my age now."

Ben tried to recall what the girl looked like. Then he remembered the time when Anne was present during one of the breakfast times back in the Merriman home.

"I seem to recall her hair was all fiery ginger-red and curly," remarked Ben.

"Aye, it was," agreed Felicity, giggling again. Then a realization hit her head about the possibility of Ben's fancies transferring from her to another girl, just because the other girl would be more attractive than Felicity.

"But don't you start looking for another girl, Ben," she admonished. "You already have a spunky redhead here with you, and one who loves you more than life itself."

Ben pointed a finger at Felicity rather playfully. "_You_, you mean," he declared.

Felicity nodded in response with her trademark suggestive and mirthful smile in her countenance.

Ben had nothing more to say at the moment, having turned his body to the right side of the bed in order to relax a little more comfortably. The silence blanketing the room only made her yearn for more and more intimate conversation with her beloved. After all, she wasn't the type of girl to be reclusive; her personality of being fairly talkative came from dealing with the various customers at her father's General Store back in Williamsburg during her childhood.

"Anything more to say, my darling Ben?" she asked, in the hopes of stimulating Ben's mind into further activity through more conversation.

Ben turned his body to the other side of the bed to face Felicity. "Concerning what?" he asked her, out of consideration to hear what more his Lissie had to say.

"Oh, just anything," said Felicity, too lazy to give a specific topic of further discussion.

"I'm a usually quiet man, Lissie-girl," Ben reminded her. In the past, he carried a reserved personality.

"Come one, Ben," pleaded Felicity, acting sensuously suggestive as she affectionately took hold of Ben's free right hand, stroking it gently. "Talk to me. Please. I'm lonely. Four years, I've been lonely without you…"

"That's absurd, Lissie," asserted Ben, laughing gaily to himself. "You're not alone. Your sweetheart is nearest to you. Right now, this very minute."

"But does he talk still?" Felicity asked him rather rhetorically.

"He's not mute, if that's what she hopes for," said Ben, forcing another chuckle. "Thank God he isn't; that the war hasn't taken his ability to speak to his lovesick little bird."

Ben lay back further as he thought of something to say that would satisfy Felicity's longing for some conversation.

"You want talk, I'm thinking of taking our conversation back to the previous path," Ben reminded her.

"Does it still concern belief in God?" Felicity inquired her beloved in a playfully inquisitive manner.

"To a rather interesting extent," Ben said rather vaguely.

"Pray, do tell," Felicity demanded impishly.

"Well…" began Ben. "It has something to do with the way God made you…just the way you are."

And Ben started engaging in thoughts about why God in his goodness made Felicity in a certain way she was formed right now, much to Felicity's suggestive amusement. He made brief commentaries about her eyes, her face, and her body.

"Your eyes…" began Ben, trying to keep his sexual passions in control as he looked at his Lissie and thought of all the things he and she could do together if they were married.

"What about my eyes?" asked Felicity, chuckling suggestively.

"They're like…they sparkle…" said Ben. Felicity laughs in a muffled manner "…Like a thousand glittering emeralds." He mused. "I'm…I could give up a more of thousand emeralds just to take even one look at your emerald-green eyes, Lissie."

Felicity's mind was racing over whether Ben really meant what he said. But she was too carried away with passion for her beloved to even care. "Oh, Ben…" she said slowly, rapturously. Such was her rapturous delight to be able to have the opportunity to feel flattered by her love.

"Um…no…really," Ben mumbled hesitantly, like a young adolescent in his teenage years. "Your eyes are just so, so beautiful."

He was in such a trance when he gazes deeply into Felicity's eyes. _So young, so fresh,_ he thought dreamily to himself about Felicity.

But when he started getting to the topic of her breasts, to the point of playfully touching the décolletage of her left breast lightly with his right hand finger…

Her décolletage was creamy, ivory-colored white with a tinge of natural peach-pink to enhance her budding feminine beauty, and had a smooth, silky feel to the sense of touch.

He just couldn't help it. Ben just could not help taking his eyes off Felicity's breasts. He started feeling around them, poking them with his finger playfully but gently, in order to get the feel of how fairly supple they were. He wanted to smell them; caress them; such desires were the nature of a man. Felicity began to find Ben's advances to be pleasurably stimulating as she closed her eyes and takes a steady deep breath. It may have been the first time in her life that her breasts were being felt around by the man she loves. But then...

"Um…Ben," interrupted Felicity, giggling to herself suggestively again. "As much as I find this reach of intimacy to be very…_stimulating_ and _pleasurable_, I really think…

Felicity heaved a sigh. As much she desired deeper intimacy in the form of physical touch from her beloved, there had to be a few rules about chastity in place, or else, she would risk harm to her reputation.

"Really, Ben," she admonished, as she tried to get Ben's hands off her bosoms, which Ben consented willingly. "I think you should control your appetite for deeper intimacy with me until _after_ we're married." She sighed. "If we're ever going to get married," she muttered to herself.

She mused over the possibility of having some of her freedoms being taken away from her as a result of marriage. She had much to think about before even considering marriage in her late teenage years.

"Besides, we're still courting," Felicity had to remind him. "There simply can't be any room for scandalous affairs."

"But I keep thinking that you usually act scandalously," said Ben. Felicity was not always proper. "In most circumstances."

"Well, this one, I'm afraid, is different," Felicity had to remind him firmly. "Both _my_ reputation and _your_ reputation are at stake here."

"Right. I get your point, Lissie-girl."

Felicity heaved a wistful sigh before looking down at her bosom. She felt her bosom aching with want for the intimate touch of her beloved.

"I know," she admitted sadly as she hung her head, hanging her head, her wavy red hair falling sensuously down her neck and a little past her shoulders. "'Tis not easy to be chaste."

"Aye. I know. I understand." Ben shifted to his musings over morality; he has to keep his carnal hunger in check if both he and Felicity going to preserve their dignity and their purity. "But I may at least touch you…gently…on your…what do they call it…your 'décolletage'?"

Such an offer of tangible affection was too tempting for Felicity to refuse. She could allow it to a certain limited extent, but she would have to draw the line.

Well," she said, raising her head ponderingly. "As long as it does not go beyond…proper bounds, so to speak, I should think 'tis all right to do so." She looked at Ben. "But only by my beloved, and no one else outside family or well-known acquaintances."

"Everyone's going to need touch most of the time in their lives, Lissie-girl," Ben reminded her. Without human touch, he or she would generally experience bouts of loneliness.

"Aye, I would agree," Felicity assented understandingly. "'Twould be most depressing without it. Gentle touch would be nice."

"Isn't that what I always do to you?" Ben asked his beloved, laughing to himself.

Felicity made a suggestive and rather mirthful grin at Ben. "Yes," she answered him sweetly.

And Ben grinned back. For a brief moment their faces met together, like two people doing an Eskimo kiss.

"Well, speaking of touch, I do remember overhearing some comments from the Lady Duffman when she met you during the morning," he remarked.

Felicity's face changed with a suspicious demeanor. "Pray, do tell," she said with a tone that denoted personal concern in her voice.

Ben cleared his throat a bit nervously. "I do remember…," he continued. "…That she made comments…about your breasts."

Felicity let out a gasp of shock in reaction. "Ben, really!" she exclaimed in dismay.

"And…and she said…" Be leaned close to Felicity to whisper to her ears. "Are you going to let men caress them, my child?" His whisper was really quiet and playfully mischievous "Can I caress them?"

The reaction that Ben got out of Felicity was even more shock. Playfully Felicity shoved a pillow directly at Ben's face. Ben managed to evade further playful stuffing as he tried to loose his face from the pillow. Felicity laughed mirthfully while Ben was struggling to avoid further pillow stuffing from his flirtatiously playful girl.

"Oh, Ben…" she said amusingly. "The stories you tell…"

Both Ben and Felicity reclined back on the bed, with Felicity back on Ben's left side. Ben manfully pulled her over to his side, making his sweetheart feel cuddled.

"You know, Ben, I just feel so _ready_ to be married," Felicity said in a wistful manner. She couldn't bring herself to understand why she had to wait for a time. And she started finding herself impatient over getting marriage over so that she and Ben could have deeper intimacy with each other. As to the prospects of raising a family, that remained to be seen.

"Hey, don't rush things too much, Lissie," Ben said softly to her. "As much as I'd like to get married soon, there's the issue of my occupation. I'm still apprenticed to your father to three more years."

"I do wonder what Father will say," Felicity thought longingly.

"He's still in the planning business," he said thoughtfully. He chuckled to himself, as a humorous thought just surged into his mind. "'Tis funny how he keeps telling me to get my head out of the clouds over you. But he did kind of mention a possibility of you and me getting married a year from now." Then his demeanor changed to reflect uncertainty in his manly looks. "If good fortune favors all of us."

"I hope so," Felicity said, trying to be optimistic. "I should think so."

"Hmm…" Ben thought skeptically to himself.

Felicity could tell that Ben was getting more cynical about the future. "I know 'tis in your nature to be skeptical of most things, Ben, but do try to be a little more optimistic," she tried to counsel him.

"Optimistic?" Ben asked curiously, but with a tinge of sharpness in his tone of voice.

"I seem to think the war has affected you a great deal during your life," Felicity said to him.

"Well, it has," Ben admitted. "But…"

"Ben, stop fooling me," Felicity said crossly without trying to scold him. "Most of the time, during your recuperation, you had recurrent bouts of depressed feelings. Don't keep thinking that I haven't remembered.

"All right," Ben admitted simply. He found it hard to refuse Felicity, even for a simple admission of some form of weakness on his part. He continued his admittance in two words. "It _has_."

In his mind, Ben still had difficulty getting over depressed feelings of not being able to see his Lissie as frequently as he wants to. He also had some difficulty getting over deaths of his comrades, specifically Matthew Brady.

"You have to focus yourself away from those thoughts that make you sad…and look on the bright side," Felicity counseled him in a motherly manner. "If all goes well…"

"Marriage, right?" Ben finished.

With her eyes closed, Felicity planted a deep kiss on Ben's left cheek. What better way to answer some sort of question that sounded like a desperate plea on Ben's part with a sign of romantic affection that all men long for, the gentle kiss of a fair, ginger-haired young maiden?

It was time for another topic of discussion. And Felicity was the first to bring it up.

"Ben, there's another thing that settles my mind," she said to him at the first opportune moment. "While I was strolling Lady Duffman's garden, I encountered a young man near your age. He seems to take a fancy to me."

Ben turned around. "What?" he asked.

Felicity hoped that Ben would not get angry with her if she made mention of another young man, for it would imply unfaithfulness in her courtship with him. But as usual between to lovers, honestly was an important element in their love lives, which would allow them to unburden each other's unsettling doubts and worries. Without it, both partners would lead the rest of their lives in unsettled minds.

"There was another young man who seemed to take a fancy to me," said Felicity. "And his name is Henry Atherton. He's from New York."

"Atherton?" asked Ben in near disbelief.

Felicity nodded in reply before continuing her discussion with Ben about the young man. "For some reason he feels so smitten with me," she continued. "When I made mention of you, he just…sulked…and left. Honestly, I don't know what's got into him." There was a look of genuine concern in Felicity's face. "I thought I should let you know this because I do suspect that Atherton is going through some sort of experience where he would die unless I was some sort of…_mistress_ to him."

Ben got rather edgy when it comes to rivals trying to woo his Lissie's heart. "He's probably a rival," he said suspiciously. "I think he wants to steal you from me."

"Ben, really," Felicity admonished him. She didn't want Ben to get judgmental about the young man, especially that he barely knew him, if not encountered him directly. "Just be nice to him. 'Tis not as if he wants to snatch me away unceremoniously."

"But I fear 'twill be exactly that way when it comes to you, Felicity Merriman," he prophesied pretty seriously.

As silence encompassed the room, Ben felt the urge to take his leave of the room, stretch his legs, and prepare for the upcoming ball.

"I've…I've got to go," he muttered to Felicity a mite awkwardly as he stretched himself up on the bed.

"Well, do be on time for the ball," said Felicity. "I would very much hate to see you coming late."

Ben smiled dearly at her, while sliding on his plain white shift. "Haven't I've always been punctual during every shift at your father's store?" he asked her reassuringly.

After grabbing his waistcoat from the nearby chair, he kisses Felicity on her right cheek, which made her face flush with pleasure. It was also a sensation for Ben, given that Felicity's cheeks were pleasurably soft to the touch. Then without another word, he quietly took his gentlemanly leave of the bedchamber.

* * *

A/N (1): A "chemise" is a one-piece undergarment.

A/N (2): Look up images of contemporary human female models on Internet sites such as Victorian beauty and you'll know what I mean in Felicity's undressing descriptions.

A/N (3): For those of you who are not familiar with what an Eskimo kiss is, an Eskimo kiss is one where both partners' faces meet together.

A/N (4): The part about Ben's brush with death in his encounter of Henry Cole had its ideas [directly] derived from the movie _Live Free or Die Hard_, where Law Enforcement Agent McClane pulls the trigger on his nemesis, allowing for the 9mm bullet to drill his right arm before killing his adversary who held him at gunpoint and restraining McClane like a hostage.

A/N (5): A few weeks back at my freshman year at CUA, I got immediately turned on by a redhead girl with bushy red hair. To be pretty accurate I remembered very clearly that it was of auburn-ginger color, bushy in style, pinned up. Her blue-green eyes could also be a turn-on for other people as well. I decided to make a mention the girl to demonstrate how young women using their enticing beauty to entice men for immoral purposes, and that a young man should exercise prudence when confronted with a situation like that, especially one that can incite his passions to the point that if left unchecked, it can overcome his reason.

A/N (6): Last time when I was at CUA, I was watching an Irish film called _Bloom_ (2003 version) as part of the X-Tra Credit incentive for our English course. (The showing of this film was sponsored by an Irish Study group at CUA.) There were just so many sex scenes present in the movie (they were mostly toned down though, so they were not that explicit, comparatively speaking with most R rated or NC-17 rated movies). I got so carried away with some of the scenes, particularly the parts at the beginning and end where Mrs. Bloom handles her sexy bosoms, as well as the parts where Mr. and Mrs. Bloom "make love" (in a mild manner) outside when they were young. These parts were sort of what inspired me to incorporate such themes into this chapter of this story.


	10. Sudden Reawakening

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 10

Sudden Reawakening

_Fall, 1778 A.D.…_

_It was two days after Ben's departure with the Fifth Regiment. Thirteen-year-old Felicity and ten-year-old Nan were seated in the parlor near the glowing fireplace on a chilly night. Felicity was wearing a hand-made gown with vertical turquoise stripes, and Nan was wearing Felicity's old flowery pink gown; the one that Felicity used to wear during her tenth birthday and during the summer of 1775. Both girls were sewing._

_Felicity was seated near the right-hand side of the fireplace, and Nan was seated near the left-hand side of the fireplace. As time flew by like the red cardinal bird of Virginia, Felicity was finding the sewing to be quite tedious. The only thing that can break the monotony of the sewing is in the constant quiet conversation between both sisters._

"_Lissie, do you really miss Ben that much?" Nan asked her eldest sister._

"_Aye, Nan. I do," answered Felicity. Her pretty face carried a wistful and lovesick reflection, as she gazed to the front wall dreamily, where the fireplace was situated. "So much…" she whispered longingly to herself._

"_Why?" Nan asked her sister in a sympathetic manner._

"_Because I fancy him," said Felicity. She mused for a brief moment.  
"Nay, I don't just fancy him. I __love__ him."_

"_But Lissie, how is it possible for you to love a young man who is six years your age?" Nan persisted. She tried to be thoughtful of her sister, but her curiosity with Felicity's relationship with a teenage boy that went beyond a mere crush was overwhelming and unsettling to her childlike mind. _

_Felicity heaved a wistful sigh. "Because we've known each other for quite a long time, Nan," she replied._

"_Did you fall in love with him when you first met him?"_

"_Not quite. But it was pretty close to being in love."_

"_Did you ever have the urge to say, 'I love you'?"_

"_Not really. I was a little too young back then."_

"_But does Ben love __you__?" Nan wanted to know._

_Felicity went into a pensive mood. "Now that I think about it, I'm very inclined to think that he does," she declared. And dreamily she continued, "I love him. And he loves me. In point of fact. Nothing can ever be simpler than this truth."_

"_Then if Ben loves you very much, he must be very foolish to leave you to run off to war and put himself in great danger," said Nan. Felicity just sighed in response, wishing that Ben did not have to do this for her sake, but must be done for freedom's sake. "On the practically side," Nan continued rather opinionatedly, "I would never have a man like that. There would always be the disturbing possibility that he could be killed." She paused for a second. "In my opinion, I think 'tis most foolish on setting one's heart on a man like that."_

_Felicity gave Nan a very hurt look. Her younger sister's opinion obviously implies greatly that she was foolish and impractical with choosing a lover. While making such an opinion wasn't necessarily wrong, the fact that Nan was saying this at a time when Felicity was deprived of Ben was rather tactless as a whole._

"_Oh, Nan," said Felicity dolefully, as she faced her sister, struggling within her own self to fight back tears. "You say this, realizing very little of what love is really all about." She gave her reply some manner of thought. "Love…is not just about practicality. Nay; in its entirety, love itself is not about practicality at all. When you come to know a person to the fullest, 'tis about being faithful. Being steadfast. Steadfast to the one you hold most dear at the bottom of your heart, for better or for worse. True love is never real unless it becomes both a bliss…and an agony."_

Felicity mused for a moment before looking at her younger sister again. _"Love makes you care for a person…care for him to the point that you will pray for his soul…and his safe return…offer your life in exchange for his…," she continued. "Love reinforces your reason for living…because you know that someone on God's green earth loves you more than life itself."_

_It seemed that Nan was beginning to have sympathy for her eldest sister as she pondered over what Felicity had just said. But deep inside her, she felt as though she had to give her sister a piece of practicality when it came to romantic relationships._

"_But surely one must consider the practical aspects of dealing with love," she advised._

"_I suppose…" sighed Felicity, exhaling dreamily._

"_One must exercise a certain degree of prudence, sense, and sensibility when dealing with a loved one, Lissie." Nan's face carried a look of concern for her sister. "Would I not be right in saying this to you, even if I were younger than you are?"_

_Felicity just heaved another wistful sigh in response. "I dare say no one can argue with that," she was forced to admit._

"_Because what if Ben loves you, but is too shy to even admit it?"_

_Felicity pondered that question for a moment. "That cannot be," she thought to herself. "Ben has always seemed to express such affections since the day we first met. They just weren't always deep, though."_

"_Nan, let me tell you this," Felicity said almost defensively to her younger sister. "Whenever Ben has convictions about something, he will never waver in speaking out for his beliefs he holds most dear. I'm sure the same goes for love as well."_

"_I suppose…" answered Nan rather thoughtfully. After pondering for a moment, she said, "I love Ben, too, but not in the same way you do. I love him as…well, a brother."_

_Felicity brightened at her younger sister. Nan gave Felicity a thoughtful look as a well._

"_I'm sorry that I said anything that hurt your feelings, Lissie," Nan said apologetically to Felicity in her attempt to console her for whatever she might have said to her that gave her more heartbreak._

"'_Tis all right, Nan," Felicity understood kindly. "Just try to be a little more understanding with it comes to personal affairs between Ben and me._

_Nan nodded her head without a word and both girls resume their sewing in the flickering firelight. Deep down in her mind, Felicity thanked God for a sister that could be just as understanding with her, even if she could be prissy and practical at times._

_

* * *

_

A gruff British infantryman thrust his bayonet directly at Ben's heart with his musket. He exerted much brute force into stabbing him, making sure the wound went deeper, as Ben lets out a weak but anguished cry of pain. Seconds later, blood started trickling down the left side of Ben's partially opened mouth, as the redcoat soldier yanked his bayonet out of Ben's body with full strength and stalks out of the stuffy wooden cabin room.

_Ben's gravely injured body was now slumped across the left corner of the room near the doorway, bleeding critically to the point of near imminent death. With his glassy brown eyes gazing heavenward at the dark, wooden flat-board ceiling, he uttered three words that seem to be his own personal cry for help._

_"Lissie…Lissie…Lissie…" he strained. He struggled weakly, as if he was desperately calling for help, although it was nigh impossible at this point. "Lissie…Lissie…Lissie…"_

* * *

That part of the mentally shattered dream is enough to suddenly wake Felicity from her late afternoon slumbering siesta. She was still in her undergarments, with the lace suspenders untied from her very shoulders. Her slightly wavy gingery-red hair, left loose in flowing in a sensuous manner, was a bit mussed from an occasional tossing and turning while sleeping over it. Her glassy emerald-green eyes stared blankly at the opposite end of the bedchamber relative to the bed itself.

Apparently the second dream was a total shocker for her.

A knock at the door was enough to nearly startle Felicity out of her wits.

"Um…come!" called Felicity, startled.

The bedchamber door opened and in entered her younger sister Nan, toting a couple of folded gowns intended for wear at the Duffman ball. She looked at her older sister in a rather concerned manner, as if Felicity was having another nightmare about Ben, which of course she was.

"Are you all right, Lissie?" Nan asked worriedly.

"Huh?" It took a little bit of a while for Felicity to get back to her senses. She made a nervous chuckle to herself before pushing back her hair. "I'm fine, Nan," she answered. "Really."

Felicity's reply was hardly convincing to her younger sister, who still had that look of concern across her fourteen-year-old ladylike face. "You feel pretty jittery," she said. "You've acted as though you were dreaming of something…terrible."

Felicity let out a gulp. "I was," she admitted. "'Twas about Ben. Nothing more."

But Nan continued look at her older sister further. And Felicity was starting to get a mite annoyed at the way her sister was looking at her.

"For heaven's sake Nan, what is it?" asked Felicity in exasperation, after heaving an impatient and cross sigh. "What is making you stare at me so, as if I've just risen from the dead?"

"Lissie, just what in heaven's name are you doing without your cap?" Nan pointed out. "You know it isn't proper for a gentlewoman to be seen without her cap on."

Felicity just couldn't believe that her younger sister would point such a stare at her just because she was in bed with no cap on her head. She sighed in exasperation. "Nan, _please_ don't vex me on such trivial matters," she said wearily.

"'Tis no trivial matter, Lissie," Nan chided her older sister. "'Tis considered most bold…and immodest for a gentlewoman to be going about with no cap over her head."

Felicity heaves a heavy and rather unenthusiastic sigh of exasperation again over Nan's commentary in response. _How annoying can my younger sister get?_ Felicity asked herself. _I just hate it when she constantly fusses about my appearance. 'Tis most annoying._

"Fine, fine," she said impatiently in a final manner. She retrieves her mobcap from the dresser on the left side of the bed.

"What time is it?" she asked, her inflection down.

"'Tis five in the afternoon," Nan answered her sister as she set the gowns down at the end of the bed. "And time to get dressed, so Mother says."

"I _knew_ it," Felicity snapped dully to herself. She still had difficulty shrugging off the nightmares about her beloved Ben.

"I know the Ball at Duffman Manor will be most wonderful," Nan said briskly in her attempt to cheer Felicity up. "I just can't wait."

"Huh," said Felicity in a rather enthusiastic manner. Her response alerted Nan, who took her eldest sister's response as somewhat unnatural, given that Felicity usually took a liking to balls.

"You sound so unenthusiastic about the ball, Lissie," said Nan with sisterly concern. "Has something dampened your usually lively spirits?"

"No…um…" began Felicity hesitantly. "I'm just tired…just…recently awakened." She waved her right hand to herself in fanning motion to cool herself, hoping to present some display of ailment to hide her unenthusiastic behavior. "'Tis most hot in here."

"Aye, 'tis," she agreed with a giggle. "But let not _that_ dampen _your_ spirits, Lissie."

Felicity slowly scrambled out of bed.

"Anyway, Mother has just unpacked your ball gown, and she told me to bring it upstairs to you," Nan informed her sister.

"Where?" asked Felicity, after yawning and stretching her arms and legs.

Nan was holding the ball gown in front of Felicity. "Right here," she reminded her eldest sister.

Felicity's ball gown was a sack gown, in the color of elegant satin creamy white. It was decked with a satin silk taffeta, and was sort of in the very same style that her blue silk gown was. Alongside the gown was a single pair of creamy ivory brocade dancing shoes.

"Oh, Nan…" Felicity expressed most rapturously, as if she had fallen in love with someone again. "'Tis most beautiful!" Taking the gown, she swished it around in a half-dreamy manner. Then she turned to her sister. "Are you sure Mother is going to let me wear this?" she asked.

"Of course, Lissie," said Nan reassuringly. "Let me see you try it on."

Eagerly Felicity slipped into her new ball gown. The lower part she managed to slip into, but the part that went on the middle of her body had yet to be strapped on.

"So what will you be wearing today?" Felicity asked her sister.

"Oh. 'Tis the newest one Mother made for me," replied Nan. "Satin white and silver." She lifted her new ball gown from the bed and displayed it to Felicity, letting it drape in front of her body. Just as she said, it was indeed a shiny mixture of satin white and gray silver.

"Nan, you'll really look most beautiful in it," Felicity commented in awed admiration.

Nan giggled. "Really?" she asked. Even at fourteen years of age, she still took a fancy to new ball gowns.

"Mm-hmm," replied Felicity. Suddenly she remembered little Polly. "And what will Polly be wearing today?" she queried to her younger sister.

"Your old blue silk gown," Nan answered.

Felicity let out a laugh. "My old gown?" she asked in a surprised tone of voice. "You mean the one that I wore at the Governor's Palace when I was nine?"

"Why not?" asked Nan with a facial expression that seemed wistful. "You no longer fit in it anymore, and Polly's age can accommodate it."

The gown was made for Felicity by her mother when Felicity was nine. Even though Polly was still eight years old, the likelihood of Polly fitting into Felicity's blue ball gown would be very high.

"Surely you'll object not about it," Nan put forth.

"Nay, on the contrary," said Felicity. She turned to Nan in a rather excited manner. "I think Polly will look most beautiful in it."

It could be said that Polly was some sort of a mini-Felicity, and it would remind the family of Felicity going to the dance at the Governor's Palace, nearly nine years ago.

Nan made a grin when she swishes her new gown around her fourteen-year-old body. Felicity could tell that Nan was genuinely appreciative of the gown that Mrs. Merriman made for her. During the war, fancy material such as silks and other fine linens were scarce, and most of the time the Merriman family had little money to spare for such fineries. This was because much of the fine materials for fancy clothes were imported from Britain, and the Colonies in general had just boycotted all imported English material. It was only a few months after the end of the war that both Britain and the now independent Colonies had resumed diplomatic relations, thus allowing trade between the two countries to flourish for the most part.

"'Tis been a long while since I ever had a new ball gown," said Nan. "And I'm most grateful that Mother was able to make one for me."

"I must envy you, Nan," said Felicity.

"But why, Lissie?" Nan whined a little. "I think yours is the most beautiful in the world."

"'Tis the experience, mostly," replied Felicity, after chuckling to herself.

"What do you mean?" Nan inquired.

"Usually I take it for granted when it comes to receiving the new gowns," said Felicity. Being the eldest, Felicity was always the first to receive the new gowns. When she outgrew them, they were mostly passed on to the younger children. "But now that you have one, and new at that, you seem to be more appreciative than I am. My taking it for granted does not seem to be a good habit for me."

"Maybe 'tis not," Nan said, as she slid into her new gown. "But with me, wishing the circumstances to change isn't really going to change them, nor would it be possible." Nan is pretty sensible to say this, perhaps unlike Felicity, who occasionally daydreams over changing circumstances, especially when it came to bringing her beloved Ben safe and sound from the war, at the soonest moment.

Felicity just shook her head with a laugh. "There goes my sensible sister," she teased.

Nan was trying to get the satin white ribbon of her gown around her waist. "Speaking of being sensible," she opinionated, "I think my satin ribbon will definitely need some tying, as well as my corset."

"Oh, Nan," Felicity said in exasperation. "Do I really have to do everything for you?"

"'Tis all I'm asking Lissie," said Nan in an innocent manner. "Are my demands far beyond your ability to meet them?"

"I suppose not," sighed Felicity. "But look at you. You're thirteen." She finally reconsidered. "But all right."

Felicity immediately got to work on lacing Nan's ribbon and corset. "I'll tie your corset, too, after that," Nan offered kindly. It would be remiss of her not to return the favor to her eldest sister.

"Well, not too tight," said Felicity. Being a fairly hyperactive tomboy, the last thing that Felicity wanted that would slow down her movements was a corset.

Felicity finished the lacing, making fairly sure that no procedural part of the lacing itself had gone amiss under her watch. "Comfortable?" she asked her sister.

"Fairly," Nan answered her sister. "Now 'tis my turn to do yours."

Nan made sure that the middle of Felicity's gown is straightened across her body. Felicity seems to have a bit of difficulty trying to fit her firm breasts into her chemise.

"Oh, 'tis most wearisome when one finds herself in a difficulty of trying to fit her breasts into the undergarments of her gown!" Felicity complained in exasperation, as she struggled to breathe, her right hand placed flat directly on the middle of her bosom as it rose sexily for every breath she took.

"Now, calm down, Lissie," said Nan sweetly and calmly, as she tightened up Felicity's corset and tied the laces together. "'Tis not as though your bosom is so huge like a plump old lady. 'Tis well-sized, 'tis firm, just like the way God graciously made it when he formed you in his image and likeness."

"'Tis almost so tight, I fear as though the bodice of my dress will rip apart, leaving my bosom exposed for all to see," Felicity opinionated.

Hard to believe that Felicity was rather conscious about her dignity, but that was typical for a lady of her time. But with the way Felicity was fussing about the whole thing, Nan could only make a wry face in response. With a sigh she felt the bodice as to whether it's firm enough for something like that to not happen. And he pats the area two times.

"Your bodice is firm, so 'tis safe to presume that it's not likely to happen during the ball," Nan reassured her eldest sister.

Nan checked and double checked Felicity's bodices laces were tied properly, making sure that no part of the upper bodice area of her gown was loose, lest Felicity undergo an embarrassing situation of having her gown slide off during her dancing activities.

"And now for the corset," announced Nan. She pulled on the corset string, making Felicity feel as though she has a stomach pain.

"OUCH! Nan!" exclaimed Felicity in pain.

"That's the way it has to be," said Nan.

"I just told you Nan, _not…too…TIGHT_!" Felicity complained.

"'Tis the way most proper young ladies have it for the fashion," Nan informed her sister calmly, despite feeling pretty miffed about Felicity's complaints that were too loud for a proper young lady. "It helps you sit still."

"Fie upon you, Nan, for trying to make my entire existence as a proper young lady so miserable for me," Felicity carped crossly to her younger sister. "Just loosen the corset a bit, enough to allow me to breathe. Surely you don't want to have a fainting sister, would you?"

"Of course not," said Nan. "But that's why most ladies have fans."

Felicity was inclined to say to hell with the conventions of fashions. "Well, I think that the fan is just too much extra baggage for me to carry around," she opinionated. "_I_ want to dance with Ben to my heart's content, unrestrained, not _sit_ around like a dainty old cucumber, fanning my pretty face just to prevent myself from relapsing into a fainting spell!"

"The corset is a bit loosened now, just like you wanted," Nan informed. And she was right. Felicity took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, and placed her right hand on her stomach. The sensation was freedom for her.

"Ahhh. That's much, _much_ better," she crooned exhilaratingly.

"I hope," said Nan, forming a petite but wry smile across her face.

The conversation started shifting to another topic at hand.

"Lissie, do you think that there might be some other beautiful young ladies who might want Ben's hand?" Nan asked her sister.

Felicity sighed, as she hoped that would not happen that much, since she really was in love with him. "I would not doubt it," said she. "But…you have just given me an idea, Nan, on account of this possibility." She flounced at her sister. "I…will stay close to Ben as I possibly can…and hold him close to my aching heart," she declared in a most determined manner.

"Does it always ache that much?" Nan wanted to know out of consideration for her eldest sister.

"Maybe," said Felicity. "I'm just lovesick." For a girl who had just given her heart to a boy she knew when she was younger, Ben meant so much to her. And always would. "Ben has been absent for five long years and I want to spend as much time with him as I possibly can."

"Gracious, Lissie!" Nan exclaimed, as if Felicity took a much deeper obsession with Ben. "Literally? Like a sea urchin?"

"Nan, really!" Felicity retorted indignantly, as she struggled a bit to fit her right foot into the brocade dancing shoe. "How can you say such disparaging things about Ben and me?"

"I don't know," said Nan a little innocently. "It sounds as though you're totally obsessed with him. Which you are."

"Oh, _enough_ of this, Nan Merriman," Felicity carped at her sister forcefully, as if she had had enough of seemingly disparaging opinions about her relationship with Ben. "If you ever find a beau of your own, like you did a gown from Mother, I'd be more than justified to say the same thing about _you_." After putting on her dancing shoes, she stood up.

"I'm longing for that to happen," said Nan rather wistfully. She turned to Felicity. "Because you have Ben. And what do _I_ have?" _Nothing,_ she was inclined to blurt out, but that word was too extreme, and Nan knew better than to display all manner of ungratefulness about her comfortable surroundings.

Felicity knelt down to Nan, and both their faces are at eye level. "Aren't you a mite too young to worry about such things?" she asked her sister.

"Well…maybe," replied Nan. Maybe she was a bit too young, like Felicity said, and Nan should accept that. But even then,…it was no use to her. "Nay. You're right. I'm much too young."

"There will be plenty of handsome, dashing young boys your age, Nan," Felicity tried to assure her sister in her effort to cheer her up.

Poor Nan was now confused. She wondered whether she should simply throw away common sense when it came to encountering a young man to court that would suit her fancies, or keep herself refrained when it came to the business of courtship. "I…I don't know," she said sadly. "I don't know. I don't usually…"

She looks up to Felicity. "Lissie, please tell me I'm pretty," she pleaded with wistful green-brown eyes.

Felicity looked back at her sister with love. "Of course you are pretty," Felicity said to her sister both in an honest and motherly way. With that she gave Nan a sisterly squeeze in a motherly embrace.

"Oh, Nan," she said in a close-to-motherly way. "My little red-haired sister. My darling little blooming sister, almost grown up."

Felicity put both hands on her sister's cheeks. Nan beamed back at her eldest sister in a genuine acknowledgement of gratitude.

* * *

A/N: The vertical turquoise-striped gown was another version of a gown featured on the front-cover illustration of _Changes for Felicity_. The flowery pink gown was featured on the front-cover illustration of _Happy Birthday, Felicity_. Both gowns have their descriptions according to the Dan Andreasen illustrations.


	11. The Grand Ball

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 11

The Grand Ball

7:00 in the evening. It was in the middle of the grand Duffman ball. Guests lived the elegant life of the party socializing with each other and dancing away to the music in a formal, graceful manner. The hired string orchestra played music on the ranges of moderato to andante.

A pompous footman stationed at the main entranceway to the grand ballroom announced the name of every guest that arrived to the ball, whether in style or not, while another checked for verification of invitations.

At one end of the ballroom, where most of the non-dancing ladies and gentlemen were socializing, was Miss Frances Manderly, a fairly young to middle-aged spinster in her late twenties to early thirties, who had an occupation of teaching young ladies their gentlewoman lessons. She was conversing with a fairly middle-aged gentleman by the name of Mr. Everard Chelton.

For quite a long time, Miss Manderly had remained a spinster. This was mostly due to a former lover that she had when she was in her teenage years. Her lover died before she could even get married, and the shock and trauma that she felt in that loss was so great that she made a resolution to never again seek affections with another man. However, all that would change in the mid-course of her life when she, in her desire for a companion to spend the rest of her life with, would begin to form a friendship with a handsome, friendly gentleman by the name of Mr. Everard Chelton, who was currently in an specialist's occupation of fixing and tuning musical instruments (at one point long ago, he tuned Miss Manderly's spinet). But a vital element was needed for that friendship to form concretely, and it came in a strange but remarkable way.

About seven years ago, Felicity and Elizabeth were involved in a valentine affair between Miss Manderly and Mr. Chelton. From the affair, it turned out, much to the consternation of the merriest girls in Virginia that Mr. Chelton actually sent a valentine to Miss Manderly. As a result of that incidental spark, Mr. Chelton saw Miss Manderly often and often proposed to her, and Miss Manderly gradually accepted. However, the war made it difficult for people to get married, especially since marriage ceremonies could be disrupted by the intense and brutal fighting that inched close to their homes, as well as the men going off to fight in the war. Even though Mr. Chelton hadn't volunteered in the war, and hadn't fought in it he and Miss Manderly thought it prudent to delay any prospects of marriage until after the war, since he knew full well that he could be called up.

It was because of the situation during the war that both he and Miss Manderly decided to keep their relationships to a friendship basis, in order to alleviate any emotions of sadness that could creep between each other as a result of close intimacy. However, during the war, there were times when both Miss Manderly and Mr. Chelton couldn't refrain themselves from being intimate to each other, as long as it was under the bounds of propriety. After all, it seemed very much that they were a perfect match.

And as time went by, their friendship could be seen as blooming into true love. This could not have been more evident than right now in the Duffman ballroom.

Elizabeth, Nan, and Polly came to greet Miss Manderly. As Nan had said to Felicity before, Polly was indeed wearing the very same silk medium blue ball gown that Felicity wore during her first dance lesson at the Governor's Palace when she was nine. Boy, have times changed so much.

Elizabeth wore a beautiful pink satin ball gown during the Duffman ball, with a cream-colored pinner cap perched on her dainty head. Pink was her favorite color. She even wore a satin white ribbon on her hair, which gathers her hair up in a bun. She was also adorned with a pair of tiny round-balled mother-of-pearl earrings.

"Oh, well, good evening, young ladies," Mrs. Manderly greeted back in a formal, warm, and diplomatic manner. "My, 'tis so good to see you."

Mr. Chelton kissed the girls' right hands, one at a time, out of a respectful gesture. Then he turned to Elizabeth. "My, my, Miss Elizabeth. So lucky you could come. And pray tell, how is the lovely, blooming Miss Merriman?" he asked her.

"Um…She's fine, thank you, Mr. Chelton," answered Elizabeth, blushing.

Mr. Chelton could recognize Elizabeth because he knew her back when she was nine, when both she and Felicity came to his shop to have a guitar repaired, and when both girls told him a lot of wonderful things about graceful Miss Manderly.

"Hmm…that reminds me," declared Miss Manderly thoughtfully. "I do wonder where Miss Merriman is."

"Um…she's most likely with Ben," said Elizabeth.

"Kissing each other, I'm sure," put in Polly precociously, with a mischievous grin, just like Felicity's.

Mr. Chelton made a suppressed burst of laughter, accidentally spewing out punch from his mouth. Miss Manderly just rolled her eyes. Nan couldn't help laughing, and Elizabeth felt quite amused over the whole thing.

"Nay, nay, Frances, 'tis just the way Miss Merriman says it…" blurted Mr. Chelton.

Miss Manderly made a wry smile. "Well, my dears, I do hope that propriety isn't dying out in the colonies," she remarked.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Chelton indignantly. "'Tis just as evident as in the ball right now."

"I dare not say anymore of this," said Miss Manderly, hoping to avoid an argument with Mr. Chelton.

"'Twas only an observant opinion, Mr. Chelton," Elizabeth said to him. Then to Miss Manderly, she asked coyly, "Shall I leave you two to yourselves, Miss Manderly?"

"If you wish, Miss Elizabeth," answered Miss Manderly. "But you may not want to stay here conversing forever. There is a whole new world to explore in a woman's area of partying and finding a suitable, handsome young man, and where more can you find such a wonderful, exquisite world…than at a ball?"

Elizabeth giggled softly to herself. "I think I should very much take your word on that Miss Manderly," she said to her. Then she made a graceful curtsy to Miss Manderly. "Good day," she said.

"Hmm…good day, Miss Cole," said Miss Manderly in a thoughtful manner.

Both Nan and Polly made a graceful curtsy before Miss Manderly before traversing the same way that Elizabeth was going.

Mr. Chelton in the meantime cast a single glance at his wineglass.

"Good God! I've ran out of punch," he remarked loudly to himself. "I should get drunk."

"Well not too drunk, Everard, or I shall give you a good scolding," Miss Manderly chided him lightheartedly.

After grinning back at Miss Manderly, Mr. Chelton headed to the table and fills his glass with another serving of the red punch.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth wandered around the ballroom, looking for her beloved Phillip. Usually she felt introverted about having people watch and scrutinize her every ladylike move, but this time, she had some fair measure of confidence within herself. Head held high, and with her hands clasped together across the bodice of her gown, she wandered composedly around the ballroom, scanning around, amidst a flurry of dancers like a lost lovebird waiting for her mate.

She finally found Phillip Michaels, who extends his left hand in offering to join with him in dancing. He was clad in his dark blue-green coat, his satin black breeches, his black buckle shoes and his satin white stockings. And his hair was tied up in a ponytail fashion by a brown-black ribbon. Even with such seemingly formal and dark colors, Phillip was just as optimistic and cheerful about everything as Elizabeth was, as was reflected in his brightening, handsome smile that formed in his handsome, manly young face.

In starting with the honors, Phillip made a graceful, deep bow. Elizabeth giggles nervously a bit as she makes a graceful curtsy.

However, she felt quite at ease when she dances with her beau, Phillip Michaels. But Phillip, not knowing entirely what was going on inside Elizabeth, decided to gain some certainty from his beloved.

"Feeling a little at ease, love?" he asked her.

"Um…I think so," replied Elizabeth, making a nervous chuckle to herself.

"Just relax," soothed Phillip. "You'll be fine."

Now it was for certain to Phillip that Elizabeth began to feel at ease. "Now I'm fine," Elizabeth said to him.

Phillip beamed at her. And Elizabeth beamed back in a darling sort of way.

At the other side of the room, Walter and Sarah were treating themselves to a slice of cake to themselves, while indulging in casual conversation.

A few minutes later, Sarah takes notice of Ben and Felicity.

"Oh, my goodness," she said to herself in stunned awe. "Walter?" she called.

"What?" asked Walter with his inflection down.

"Walter, look," prodded Sarah, pointing to a redheaded, green-eyed teenage girl in creamy-white satin gown, satin white embroidered dancing shoes, and a pinner cap on her head. "Your friend."

Now Walter recognized that the girl was Felicity, and was arm-in-arm with her beloved Ben, who was dressed in his spiffy dark blue Continental Legion uniform and polished black gentleman's boots. "Providence be praised," he remarked in awe. "I have never seen such stunning beauty."

"'Tis so romantic," said Sarah dreamily.

Walter immediately took the opportunity to take a rather invasive peek at his sweetheart's bosom after pulling Sarah's low-cut bodice of her gown that lined across her cleavage. Sarah slapped his hand.

"Walter!" she exclaimed, shocked over her boyfriend's rather ungentlemanly behavior.

Both Ben and Felicity made their semi-grand entrance to the ballroom.

"Your invitation?" a well-dressed footman prompted.

"We were all invited, if that's what you mean," answered Ben diplomatically. "At her house."

"Oh," said the footman briskly. "Might be difficult to remember," he extended his hand in the opposite direction into the ballroom, in an indication of ushering the young couple in. "Step right in," he ordered.

As Felicity and Ben stepped right into the ballroom, the footman announced imperiously, "Miss Felicity Merriman, escorted by Mr. Benjamin Davidson."

Seconds later, the memory of Mrs. Fitchett's remarks about Felicity at the General Store surged through the back of her mind again.

"_I am sure __she'll__ have the lads flocking about, Mr. Merriman," declared Mrs. Fitchett. She turned from Mr. Merriman to Felicity. "Are you ready for the lads to come a-courting, Miss Felicity? Are you working on your sampler of stitches to show them how well you sew?_

"_No, ma'am," replied Felicity. "I've not begin a sampler as yet."_

"_Not yet?" asked Mrs. Fitchett. "Why, my girls had finished their samplers when they were your age!"_

"_My Lissie's not much of a one for stitching," said Mr. Merriman. "She hasn't the patience."_

"_High-spirited, is she?" said Mrs. Fitchett. "Well, well, Mr. Merriman,. Your girl will find her patience when she goes looking for it, I am sure. Wait till she meets a fellow she fancies. She'll settle down fast enough."_

Felicity chuckled back at the memory to herself and put forth her focus on the ball and her beloved Ben as she beamed back at him, remembering what Mrs. Fitchett had told her about finding and meeting a fellow she takes a fancy to. But to her it was more than just a mere fancy. For her it was true love. But whether she would settle down fast enough if she met a fellow she fancied was another matter, because Felicity, even in the middle of her courtship with Ben, was still active as ever.

"Oh, Ben," declared Felicity rapturously, feeling enchanted at the surroundings. "I feel as though I've died and went straight to God's heaven."

"Lissie, you can't die today," said Ben with a teasing laugh. "Not ever. You've got a lot to live for."

"Ben, really, you take things too seriously," said Felicity briskly. Her face was seemingly wistful, as she happily soaks in the appearance and mood of the Duffman Ball "'Twas just a feeling I was having upon our entrance to this beautiful, grand ball."

The orchestra begins a new tune, under the watchful auspices of its conductor. They play a Mozart piece in D-Major. The piece is short.

Ben made a bow, textbook-style, and Felicity made a curtsy, being careful not to trip and fall in a heap, which was what she was a mite afraid of doing. Even if she was with Ben, the situation would still be a mite embarrassing for her, though fortunately not as much, as Ben would be a tad understanding with her. Ben would have little inclination to act like a Mr. Know-It-All, since he himself wasn't particularly good at dancing.

But as Ben danced away with his Lissie hand in hand, he forgot his over-consciousness of awkward and incompetent dancing, and just simply let himself get carried away with the music – and Felicity herself.

"Your dancing has improved quite a lot, Ben, I dare say," commented Felicity.

"I improved," said Ben. His reply was a little serious but playful as he struggled a bit to catch up with the lively dance steps. "Overtime," he added further.

While dancing, Ben took to mentioning a bit about his infiltration mission during a ball. He danced with a few lovely ladies during the ball as well. Felicity gave him a rather disapproving look and snubs him rather playfully in the nose.

It was not long before both the merriest girls in Virginia came across each other right in the middle of a dance. Elizabeth waves back to Felicity as she clung dearly to Phillip.

"Lissie!" Elizabeth exclaimed excitedly.

"Elizabeth!" Felicity exclaimed back in the same excited manner as her best friend.

"We thought you were indisposed," said Elizabeth, laughing.

"I was enjoying a moment with Ben while he was getting dressed," informed Felicity, giggling as well.

"Lissie, how can you be so scandalously forward! Before you're even married!" Elizabeth exclaimed in dismay. As if her friend's remark about enjoying a moment with her beloved implied that they were having intimacy in bed. Such talk was usually kept to oneself when in public, but usually Felicity was too bold to even bother with caution when she herself was in a fairly public area, like the Duffman Ballroom.

Felicity just laughed away, and Ben chuckled to himself as well. Both couples continued dancing with the music.

At the back end of the ballroom near the entranceway, Fanny and her mother was seated on one of the long-seats situated the back wall corner. With baby Joey wrapped up comfortably in a wooden bassinette, stealing frequent glances at his upward surroundings, Fanny could devote herself a little on some things at the ball, such as mild alcoholic drink. But as often as not, her mother was usually there to oversee that she was not overdoing it to excess.

As was the case when Fanny was drinking right now. She swallowed a glass punch and gulped it. The strong drink, drunk in the manner of gulping, made her heart burn slightly that she instinctively placed her right hand over her chest.

"Gracious, Fanny dear!" her mother exclaimed. "Don't drink that stuff too much to excess! 'Twill harm your body too much, especially at a time when you've just had little Joey!"

Fanny sighed. "Mother…" she murmured.

"You've got a wee babe to tend, remember?" Mrs. Wythe pressed further to her teenage daughter without sounding too unkind to her. "I know you're most likely doing this because poor Matthew, God rest his soul, ain't here to spend this time with you, and you want to dull out such sad feelings that inflict your heart, but think of the babe. He'll need you."

Perhaps her mother was right. Fanny looked down rather forlornly at her infant son, thinking that she would need all the help available to her if she was going to raise him right. Having little inclination to espouse further arguments between her and her mother on account of that, Fanny decided to tone down her drinking a bit.

Meanwhile, Nan was sitting on a chair, her hands clasped together, as she watched Felicity and Ben dance. Little Polly danced to the music, too, swishing her blue gown around, as if she's enveloped in an enchantment.

"Polly, what on earth are you doing?" Nan complained in exasperation. "You're making me dizzy."

"I'm dancing is what," Polly responded indignantly to her elder sister.

"Can you dance someplace else?" Nan pleaded, unable to put up with Polly's dizzying dancing activities.

"Oh, fine. Have it your way then, Nan Merriman," she retorted. "Bossy sister," she said to herself crossly.

Nan longed to be able to participate in the dancing, with a boy. However, her sense restrained her a bit.

The music has ended, and there is mild clapping.

The orchestra strikes up another tune. The Virginia Reel. Felicity happily made the first dancing steps, while holding the skirts of her gown. Ben joins in. And so both she and Ben were now dancing with each other on the Virginia Reel.

Shortly Polly encounters Ben. Ben danced with little Polly a little bit, much to Felicity's amusement. Ben was even a little more clumsier when it came to dancing with a little girl half his manly height, and as a result he ended up becoming the laughingstock of some people, including Felicity. But Ben tried to keep himself oblivious to the laughs, and tried to find creative ways to make an already hilarious scene all the more hilarious.

But then Ben twirled Polly around like an older girl, and become a bit more graceful in his own way.

While the lively music was still going on, Sarah was getting kind of restless. She wanted to do something else aside from sitting with Walter for the time being. So she got up from her chair.

"Hey, Sarah," called Walter impulsively. "Where you going?"

"To find my best friend, Miss Nan, of course," replied Sarah.

"But…I was just contemplating about going to another dance with you," said Walter.

"Um…Maybe another time," replied Sarah. "I still have difficulty getting over that rather invasive _peek_ into my bosoms."

"Don't go away too far, though," said Walter. "'Cause I still love you."

With a curt and unenthusiastic nod, as if she didn't take Walter's plea pretty seriously, Sarah dashed away.

Meanwhile, Nan was looking pretty pensive about finding a boy at the ball. It was not long before her best friend Sarah Bennett came across her.

"Why, Nan, you look to be quite pensive today," remarked Sarah, upon observing Nan in a state of meditation and longing.

"I'm just a quiet one is all," replied Nan. It seemed that she didn't have much heart to throw away propriety to join the fun.

"Why sit there when you should be joining in the festivities?"

Nan looked up at her friend rather wistfully.

"Come on," said Sarah, as she grabbed Nan's right hand with her right. "Let's meet some nice new people."

After following Sarah's lead, Nan encountered with her friend some teenage ladies at the ball close to Sarah's age. Their gowns were a lot fancier than Nan's and Sarah's, and their hair was pinned back in a manner that made them look superior. They were busy chatting gaily over various feminine topics. But when they took notice of both girls, their smiles changed to straight faces. Two other girls tittered behind. After the tittering, the group stared at Nan.

"Come on. Let's meet those girls," said Sarah.

Given the stares, Nan was rather hesitant to make contact with the girls. She sighed and took a deep breath. "Um…all right," she consented shyly.

One of the girls, Priscilla Dunham, the queen bee of the girly-girls' group who was seventeen years of age, hazel-eyed and dark blonde, cast a surprised glance at Nan.

"I, um…take it we've never been introduced before?" the girl began a little suspiciously.

Sarah, a little more outgoing than Nan, decided to introduce herself and her friend. "Ladies, my name is Miss Sarah Bennett," she said with an outgoing smile. "And this is my best friend, Nan Merriman."

"That would be short for "Anne", I imagine," declared Priscilla. She sighed almost haughtily. "What a homely name," she murmured.

"Those simpleminded colonists," another girl named Corabelle murmured vainly in a small voice.

Nan made a suspicious frown, which prompted Sarah nudging her for her manners. "Stop frowning, Nan," whispered Sarah a little anxiously. "Smile. Prove them wrong."

Nan forced a smile, and Sarah continued speaking up. smiles.

"We're not exactly as simpleminded as we appear and act to be," she said.

"Oh?" Priscilla inquired haughtily.

"Might I inquire as to what your names are?" asked Sarah professionally, ignoring Priscilla's haughtiness.

"I'm Priscilla Dunham," said Priscilla in her same haughty manner. "And my three other friends are Mariah Hopkins, and Corabelle and Clementina Clearwater."

Both Corabelle and Clementina were like ladies-in-waiting to Priscilla; with Corabelle on her left, and Clementina on her right. Each of the girls had wavy brown hair, which was adorned with sparkles.

"She looks like a witch," declared Corabelle almost repulsively.

"Who?" asked Mariah curiously.

"That redhead, standing by her acquaintance's side," said Corabelle.

Nan gave the girl a look that indicates that she's been insulted; she felt hurt by a remark that gave a rather negative outlook on girls with red hair.

"'Tis most improper to insult a gentlewoman, Miss Corabelle," Nan said solemnly and pointedly.

"But 'tis true," affirmed Corabelle rather indelicately. "Don't you think, Clementina?"

"Indeed," the other girl agreed with dainty disgust in the same tactless manner as Corabelle.

"Nan is just as sweet and sensible and proper as any gentlewoman can be," countered Sarah on Nan's behalf.

"We'll see about that," said Priscilla, hoping to test Nan.

Having some sort of awareness that she was being tested for her manners, Nan decided to put forth her best ladylike impression ever. She put some force into making herself look pleasant, as she looked around gracefully and smiled sweetly.

"I dare say, I really do love this party," Nan declared as cheerfully as she could. "There's a lot of eligible young men in handsome clothes, and a lot of beautiful young ladies in beautiful gowns…I just love new gowns." Nan could feel her confidence with other people growing to a fair level.

"'Tis not as good as last year," said Corabelle.

"Really?" asked Nan curiously. "Pray, what did they have last year?"

"Plain-looking ladies and gentlewomen," replied Corabelle.

Priscilla's eyes narrowed at Nan. "How old are you?" she asked inquisitively.

"Fourteen," Nan answered quickly but in a friendly and graceful tone of voice.

"You still have a year to go before you can officially begin courting," declared Priscilla.

"I can wait."

"Mercy! Your bosom is so flat-chested," commented Mariah. "Who'd want to marry _you_, looking like that?"

The girls on Priscilla's side tittered to each other in reaction. Nan in reply shot the girls a straight face. Priscilla gave her friends a rather straight face, as the tittering was not only unnecessary but also annoying to her, as she was enjoying her moment of taunting Nan in a manner that would make her feel so ashamed and so self-conscious about her looks.

"You "proper" young ladies are from Richmond, are you?" she asked. Richmond, now being the largest thriving city in the colony of Virginia, and recently made its capital city, was the center of everything; and anything or anyone that came from anywhere else aside from Virginia was considered inferior for the most part to Priscilla.

"Actually, we're from Williamsburg," answered Nan.

"There. See?" said Corabelle, making a rather pouty face. "I was right when I said they were _colonists_," she added further, putting much scorn into the very last word.

Priscilla eyed on Nan's ball gown. "Who made your gown, Miss Nan?" she asked.

Nan resumed her pleasant tone of voice, hoping within herself that some positive feedback of her gown might come out of the mouths of the older girls, after all that snobbery elicited about her. "My mother," she replied, as she took hold of her skirts and swished it around gracefully. "Isn't it beautiful and fairy-like? 'Tis nearly the same fashion as my older sister's. When I saw the beautiful material at the milliner's, I thought…"

"You ought to see your mother about this," interrupted Priscilla.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Nan, frowning in dismay, after not only being interrupted discourteously by Priscilla, but also by hinting of criticism on the part of her dress.

"Your mother," said Priscilla. "By the looks of it she isn't really a very good seamstress. She made you a ball gown that's so old-fashioned and behind the times."

The other girls giggled in laughter.

"Oh…I didn't know…" Nan said, confused, and at the same time, almost embarrassed. She did like new gowns, but criticism about her dress made her feel a mite uncomfortable and intimidated.

"Nan, that's nothing to be discouraged about," assured Sarah. "Your gown is more than lovely."

"Oh, that's all right," said Priscilla in a smug manner. "I was only trying to help your shy little friend, Miss Bennett. After all, no one would want her to look so _foolish_ in that new dress."

Nan goggled in dismayed shock. But then her attitude changed into something a bit more defiant. True, she was a girl of sweetness and sense, but being a Merriman, the Merriman spark of defiance against wrongdoers was in her. And being a young gentlewoman of dignity to put up with such insults, Nan would make sure that her foe would get what she rightly deserved. So she curled her right hand into a fist, poising herself to strike a blow against Priscilla Dunham.

"Your behavior is repre_hen_sible," she said crossly to Priscilla in utter disgust over the girl's snobbish attitude, as well as for the other girls on Priscilla's side. "You are _beneath_ me, and this conversation is _beneath_ me, and _I_ will no longer stay _party_ to your unex_plain_able need to demean _others_, when _you_ your_self_ are most imperfect your_self_." Then she turned to the rest of the girls. "Anyone who wishes to better themselves may come with me," she finished firmly.

The very idea of Sarah introducing to such snobbish people was what reeled across Nan's mind. Was Sarah doing this to her simply make Nan feel so demeaned just for the sake of seeing her being demeaned? Was Sarah doing it to her simply to make Nan realize that even acting in a gentlewomanly manner would not be enough to overcome snobbery on the part of those who considered themselves better than she? Or was Sarah doing this so that Nan could overcome her shyness towards other people, even to those who would taunt her?

For the rest of the group, the reactions of Priscilla's friends were sort of a mixture of shame of being party to a girl who had no qualms with demeaning colonial gentlewomen like Nan, and at the same time, indignation over being shamed by a colonial herself. In turn, it seemed then that the girls were just getting ready their next round of verbal abuse.

But Nan was just seconds away from turning her back on the girls taking a step away from them when a fifteen-year-old lad by the name of Nathaniel arrived at the scene.

"Why, Miss Priscilla Dunham," greeted the lad, "I dare say you look mighty fine in that beautiful ivory gown."

"Why thank you, good sir," replied Priscilla, almost swoonish while performing an extravagant curtsy.

"Only the Lord knows how long it took you to get into what appears to be a seemingly cumbersome outfit," said Nathaniel.

"You don't say!" Priscilla exclaimed in dismay. She had never expected someone this gentlemanly to criticize her. This surprised Nan, and it amused Sarah when Priscilla was forced to receive a taste of her own taunting medicine.

"Indeed. If 'twas the case, your servants might end up being forced to tear off all the petticoats just to get you out of it."

Goggling, Priscilla, flustered in reaction. Without another word, she and her friends took off the ballroom where Nan, Sarah, and Nathaniel were.

Nan faced the dashing young lad. "That was…bold," she complimented to him a little coyly.

"Fortune favors the bold, young Miss," Nathaniel remarked with an air of confidence. "Might I inquire as to who you two dashing young ladies might be?"

"Nan Merriman. And this…is my best friend, Sarah Bennett," she said, pointing to Sarah herself.

"Charmed," replied Nathaniel, as he kissed Sarah's right hand, and Nan's right hand next. "Would you mind if I asked the lovely little redhead for a dance?" he asked boldly.

"You have not bothered to introduce yourself, sir," said Nan, who was unwilling to consent to dancing with anyone who had not even bothered to introduce himself. "'Tis most improper for a gentleman not to introduce himself especially to a lady whom she knows not."

"My apologies…Miss," apologized Nathaniel, performing a sweeping bow. "So sorry. I forgot. I…am Nathanial Duffman, the youngest."

"The youngest?" Nan inquired inquisitively.

"The youngest of five children…is what. That's my mother over there," he said, pointing over to Lady Duffman, who was seated beside Mrs. Cole, with Mrs. Cole on Lady Duffman's right side, and Mrs. Merriman beside Mrs. Cole's right side.

Sarah was baffled over such a surprising revealing of identity on the part of the semi-modest gentry, and so was Nan.

"Then…you _are_ indeed related to the honorable Lady Duffman?" Nan inquired again.

"That's right, Miss," replied Nathaniel briskly. "Now may I ask you for a dance?"

Nan beamed a graceful smile. "I thank you for the invitation, but I must first ask Mother for her permission," she said courteously.

"Oh, come on, Nan!" Sarah encouraged. "Please try it, just this once!" She leaned in to whisper to her friend. "'Tis not like every gentleman will take a fancy at you," she said. "This _is_ a wonderful opportunity."

Nan was hesitant. But in spite of being a common-sense girl, there was something in her that was urging her to seize the opportunity. Many girls her age would dream of being fancied by a young man like Nathaniel, and such an opportunity was presented before a colonist, but a young girl of the middling class, like Nan. It was up to her to take it.

Nan was a bit hesitant. Should she violate her conscience a bit, or should she stick to common sense? After mulling things over a bit, she agrees to the dance. "Um…all right. Very well," she consented. "Take me…to the dance."

"That we shall," said Nathaniel. He extended his right hand in a gentlemanly fashion toward Nan. "Shall we?" he offered graciously in the manner of a true gentleman.

It was not long before both Nan and Nathaniel got swept into the smooth, moderate dance at music played at Moderato.

Suddenly Sarah remembered Walter. "Oh, where's Walter now?" she asked herself in anxious exasperation.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Merriman, Mrs. Cole, and Lady Duffman were eagerly watching the dances. Mrs. Merriman observed Nan dancing gaily with Nathaniel.

"Oh…my goodness," said an awed Mrs. Merriman, her right had at her chest. "My sweet little Nan…is dancing…with a boy."

And my young son at that," said Lady Duffman, clasping hands together in a rather excited manner. "Oh, those two will go so wonderfully together."

For Mrs. Merriman, the whole thing was a shocker.

"Your son?" she asked. "My goodness, are you sure? You really think so?"

"Now don't you get all panicky, my dear Mrs. Merriman," assured Lady Duffman. "By all means he is the youngest in my brood of five."

"Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Cole remarked to herself in reverence.

Suddenly, Mrs. Merriman was reminded about William and Polly.

"Where's William? Where's Polly?" she asked rather anxiously to herself.

* * *

A/N (1): The character, Mr. Everard Chelton, was from the book _Felicity's Valentine_. Any mention of a possible friendship or intimate relationship between Miss Manderly and Mr. Chelton was derived from the book as well.

A/N (2): Priscilla Dunham is another version of the snobby Annabelle Cole.

A/N (3): "Your behavior is reprehensible…" – This quote of Nan was from pansyphoenix. She came up with it, and suggested that I used, it which is precisely what I did.


	12. William And Polly

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 12

William And Polly

At the very back end of the Duffman Manor house was the kitchen, where most of the young children from ages four to twelve were dining under the supervision of the servants. Children usually ate in the kitchen during a ball, with a small number of the servants accommodating them. The kitchen was noisy with children chatting and making noises at each other.

In another room adjacent to the kitchen, William and Polly were killing time in their own childish ways.

William was seated on a rickety wooden table, playing a card game of poker with Herbert Streyp. Streyp was a thirteen-year-old boy who often had the reputation of inviting people to his card games. He also smoked, too, as was the case right now as he clutched a smoking pipe of tobacco in his mouth and enjoyed every aroma of tobacco from that smoke as best as he could. His hair was a bit ruffled and unkempt, and his clothes were plain.

Polly in the meantime was seated on a lone chair at the back corner of the room opposite the doorway to the kitchen, playing with her doll, and feeling quite bored during her mundane play.

"Your turn," Streyp said to William. William dealt out another card at the prompt of his turn.

Streyp leered at William's card. "Ha ha ha," he laughed rather mischievously. "Not so lucky this time…William."

"Damn it!" William swore vociferously.

"William, you watch your language this minute, or I'll tell Mother!" squeaked Polly.

"Oh hush, Polly!" retorted William. "You always have to make things miserable for me," he muttered resentfully to himself before turning to the Streyp lad. "What next, Herbert?" he asked fairly enthusiastically.

"We can still continue," said Streyp, choosing to be friendly with William.

"I'm bored," complained Polly.

"Why don't you run and jump across the tables in the kitchen for a change, Polly?" asked William, hoping to see Polly make a ghastly scene of herself dancing on the kitchen tables like a wild tavern girl.

"I can't do that," replied Polly. "If I do that, Mother will find out and she'll scold me."

"That didn't [exactly] stop Lissie from walking on fences," declared William. "What are _you_ so afraid of, little sister?"

"Scolding?" Polly asked her brother a bit nervously.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, little girl," put in Streyp. "You can walk on the tables, make a blasted fool out of yourself, with everyone gawking at you." He made a gleeful smile at Polly, hinting some sort of mischievousness that he had in mind on Polly's part. "Or…you can take off that cumbersome gown of yours and dance on the table to your heart's content, making an exhilarating show of yourself in nothing but your shift, dancing barelegged…"

"Oh, really!" Polly interrupted in her childishly indignant and challenging manner to the Streyp lad.

"Aye," said Streyp, trying to make his point at Polly, as well as to William. "One time, when I was at Roanoke, we used to see a girl _your_ age take off her gown and dance in her shift on a table all night. Barelegged. 'Twas uproarious."

"Did anything…bad…happen to her?" asked William curiously.

"Well, it did happen at the backyard of our home, and it was quite observable from where Mama was watching from the window," said Streyp. "Sensing such…'improprieties'," he continued, wherein he was made finger gestures of quotations for his quoted word, "Mother told her get down from the table this minute. _Then_ Mother told the girl's mother about what she was doing, and the girl's mother was quite surprised…that she…"

"That she what?" Polly blurted.

Streyp heaved a sigh. "That she spanked her all soundly and sent her to bed," he said simply in a rather trivializing manner.

"You're just exaggerating, Herbert," said William. "I don't recall Mother ever doing that to Lissie since she was walking on fences and walking barelegged in the gardens."

"'Twas also because her clothes were all mussed-up," Streyp added further. "Which could by why she got a spanking. If I might demonstrate…" He got up from his seat when Polly stopped him cold with her own little scolding.

"You'll do no such thing," Polly interrupted Streyp in his proceeding of demonstration. "Not with us."

Streyp sulked as he plopped back on his wooden chair and moved himself and his chair closer to the table. "You girls _always_ have to take out all the fun," he grumbled resentfully.

"That's because we girls have a little more sense when it comes to fun than you boys," Polly said saucily.

"My shitty bum says otherwise," said Streyp in indignant resentfulness.

Polly got rather squeamish over the boy's language. Her face prompted Streyp to find some way to get her off his head.

"Why don't you go play in the horse trough, little girl?" Streyp asked loudly.

"'Tis dirty in there!" Polly exclaimed indignantly. "I don't want to mess up my nice blue gown. Lissie will be most upset if I do."

Before Streyp could say much of anything about an inquiry of who Polly's eldest sister was, Mr. Merriman was already making a peel into the room. He opened the door and entered.

"William?" Mr. Merriman called.

William immediately turned his head to face Mr. Merriman. "Yes, Father?" he asked, nearly hyperventilating in fright at his father's sudden arrival.

"Just checking on the both of you," said Mr. Merriman. "Mother was anxious as to what you two are doing."

"No mischief in this kitchen lot, I can assure you. Sir," Streyp assured.

"Good," said Mr. Merriman in a firm and brisk manner to William, though he gave the lad a half-suspicious look. He cleared his throat. (Clears throat) "All right," he continued. "I'll leave you three to yourselves. Mind you don't get yourselves into trouble."

William and Polly nodded in agreement to their father. Behind his back, Streyp crossed his fingers. Getting people into trouble seemed to be his sport.

"Made your move, man?" Streyp asked William.

"Yes, sir."

"My turn then."

Streyp cautiously dealt out a poker card. For some reason, he had a lucky one. And William knew it.

"You cheated!" William exclaimed resentfully.

"Did not!" retorted Streyp.

"Did," William said firmly and bitterly. Even at his age, he was determined to stand his ground like a man.

"Do you even have proof that I ever did such a thing?" challenged Streyp.

"'Tis just that you're always lucky all the time," William complained.  
And I keep losing against you."

Streyp hit upon some kind of panacea to "cure" William's card game loser woes: "I know just the remedy that will make you forget your grudges against me," he said.

He took his coat, which was on the right hand side of his chair on the floor, wherein he took out a pewter box of tobacco and a little pipe.

"Fancy some smoke?" Streyp asked, proffering the pipe directly to William.

William was wide-eyed with excitement. "Me?" he asked. "Jolly good." He impulsively grabbed the pipe from Streyp.

Upon hearing some part of the smoke conversation, Polly instinctively rushed to her brother to stop him. "No!" she squeaked.

"Come on, Polly. It won't hurt to try," said William.

"No! You can't!" Polly insisted.

"And why not?" William retorted crossly.

"You're too young! Besides, Mother will be most upset if you do this."

"She won't know, that's for sure," insisted Streyp.

Polly turned to William in the manner of an older sister "You'll get sick," she warned him _seriously_.

"I won't get sick!" William retorted. "Who said I'll get sick in the first place?"

"The offer's only done once, William," said Streyp, wagging a stick lighter.

If William had some second thoughts, he was considering whether to take the offer. But with only Polly left to stop him, and given that Father wasn't here at the moment, William takes the pipe. Streyp struck a match and lighted the stick lighter. Extinguishing the match, he touched the cigar with the lighter. The emanating smoke of tobacco gave off a very strong smell – almost too strong for William's young body to take.

"I going to tell Mother…that you're smoking…" Polly said in a sing-song voice.

"Fine!" spat William, nearly irritated with his younger sister.

Polly tried to dramatize her tattling to her mother that William is smoking, hoping to get William to stop. "Mother…William is smoking…" she sang.

It was not long before William started coughing on account of the tobacco smoke. He fell to the floor, coughing and retching. Polly started acting rather panicky over the situation.

"William…William?" Polly blurted in panic, as she tried to shake her brother to her senses. He still kept coughing and retching. "William!" she shouted.

Streyp looked on. Polly looked up at him.

"Don't just stand there! Do something!" Polly demanded him.

Streyp made a gesture of outstretched hands that said something to the effect of "What?" "What?" he asked in a descending inflection. What am I supposed to do? Tell your Mother?

"Go get water!" Polly demanded frantically.

"Fine, fine," said Streyp with an unenthusiastic sigh as he went off to fetch water at a brisk pace. His attitude could almost be implied that he didn't take the whole situation seriously, though he was at least hurrying with the water-fetching to a fair extent.

Seconds later, Streyp returned with an overfilled jug of water. He turned William upright and pours water into William's mouth.

"There. At least 'twill quench his burning thirst," said Streyp in wry sarcasm.

William gulped down the cool water. He breathed in an exhaustive manner, until he recovered to a fair extent.

"Well, William?" Polly asked in her usual saucy manner. "Have you learned a little lesson today?"

"I…I think so," William stuttered.

"Well, now that you've recovered from your little smoking stint, I intend to treat myself to an outing in Duffman's garden," declared Polly determinedly.

"Are you sure you're allowed to go alone?" asked William. Polly, being the littlest at six years of age, still usually needed someone to accompany her when she was in an unfamiliar are. But Polly, just like Felicity, had some measure of a rebellious nature on her part.

"Of course it is," said Streyp emphatically. "What's with you, William? Turned bizarrely girlish?"

"Don't get into any more trouble, William," Polly enjoined her brother seriously.

Polly made a hurried curtsy and takes a stroll around the garden. The sky was dusk, with some residual sunset light. Polly took in the sights, shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales. The evening April air was cool.

As Polly wandered around Duffman garden, she soon came across a scene where an older boy was leaving his younger sister in a set of foot-based stocks at the right hand end corner of the garden, with the boy leaving her off, struggling, and the boy himself guffawing in amusement over seeing and leaving his sister with her feet trapped in the stocks. Immediately Polly hid behind a bush, fearing that the boy would find her.

When the boy was gone, Polly approached the brunette girl, who was brown haired and brown-eyed. The poor lass was bereft of her shoes, stockings, mobcap, and gown, and it is almost unseemly to see her in her undergarments. She was also crying and struggling in a desperate attempt to free herself from the stocks.

Tearfully, the girl pleaded desperately with Polly if she could find some way to free her.

"Please…, please help me," the girl begged rather tearfully.

Polly was a mite confused. "How?" she asked, trying not to sound too rude.

"Anything. Do anything to get me out of these horrid stocks!" blurted the girl.

Polly rushed back to the room where William and Streyp were in the midst of their card game. After rummaging through a few goods at the opposite end where the game table was, she managed to find a hatchet. Grabbing it, she ran back to the place where the girl was trapped in the stocks.

"What are you gonna do?" the girl asked rather nervously, hoping that Polly would not have to chop off her feet if it was the only way to free her if there was no way of breaking the lock.

"Don't worry. I'll help you," Polly promised confidently. Having a bit of her eldest sister Felicity in her was what gave her an advantage of handling some seemingly bizarre situations.

Polly eyed the lock. Aiming the hatchet as best as her little body could, she swung the hatchet down against the lock in a single stroke. WHACK! The hatchet broke off the lock. The stocks were removed, and the girl, getting her feet off the stocks eagerly, set off to find her missing shoes, stockings, mobcap, and gown. Polly found at least some of the girl's articles of clothing when the girl made a personal request of assistance to her.

"Th-thank you," said the girl, before she set herself to taking off.

"Wait!" cried Polly. The girl stopped in her tracks. "You…you haven't introduced yourself to me."

The girl rushed back to her. "My…my name is Mary Sutter," she responded simply.

"I'm Polly. Polly Merriman." Polly introduced confidently, too, just like what her older sister would do if she met someone else, given her outgoing personality.

Mary revealed herself as being at eleven years of age, and four years younger than her older brother, who confined her to the stocks "out of greatest meanness."

"That's awful of him," said Polly, trying to be sympathetic with her. She then set to asking a favor for Mary in exchange for finding a way of getting her out of the stocks.

"In exchange for setting you free, I want you to do me a favor," said Polly.

"Anything, Miss," said the girl, breathing nervously.

Mischief was on Polly's mind. She wanted to see William meet a girl and literally see _his_ reaction. This thought made her let out giggle, as she muffled her mouth.

"I want _you_ to meet my older brother," she said to Mary.

Mary was hesitant about the idea. But even at her age, her confidence prodded her to be indebted to Polly, who was gracious to free her from the horrid stocks. "Um…all right," she said nervously. "But don't hurt me. Please," she begged.

"Honestly, Mary, I won't," Polly assured the girl. "Don't worry."

Grabbing the girl's hand, Polly led Mary across the garden to the kitchen. She then proceeded to introduce the bashful girl to her older brother.

"William…" Polly said sweetly with a tinge of mischievousness lingering in her childish tone of voice.

"What now, Polly?" William asked rather irritably. "Here to tell me what I can and cannot do now?"

"Not this time," Polly grinned. She stepped aside, revealing the girl.

"Who the blazes is this young, delectable, cheap slut?" asked Streyp tactlessly in reference to Mary. In reaction, the girl gasped in shock over Streyp's crude connotation of identifying women.

"You watch your mouth, Herbert Streyp!" Polly scolded indignantly. "Or I'll tell Mother, and she'll…"

"Give me a spanking? Huh," challenged Streyp.

But William was a mite confused over the situation. "What's all this about…_her_?" he asked, pointing to Mary.

Polly cleared her throat. "Well, William," she replied, "This…is Mary Sutter."

"Well, what's she doing here anyway?"

"She's here…to ask you for a dance."

William was very much fazed. "Did you just get me a girl?" he asked his sister in consternation.

"Mm-hmm," Polly answered with an impish grin, just like her eldest sister.

William made a rather nervous laugh. "You…you can't be serious, Polly," said he.

"I can be serious if I want to," Polly said in her eldest sister's usual impish manner of speaking. She gave Mary a nudging push toward William. "Well, go, Mary. William is waiting for you."

Mary took a bashful step forward toward William, concern whirring across her young head about what next to do.

"Can I kiss the graceful lady's hand?" asked Streyp, hoping to gain some shred of the girl's respect.

"No," Polly declared determinedly. "Only William gets to do that." Polly knew she had to drive her point across Streyp that the girl was there for William and William only.

"I have to _kiss_ her?" William asked rather incredulously, upon hearing Streyp's suggestion of kissing the girl's hand as some sort of gesture of respect to her.

"Aye," said Polly.

Slowly in a dramatic moment, William took Mary's hand in his. William grinned at the girl shyly, and Mary returned her own bashful grin.

* * *

A/N: William and Polly are in a room adjacent to the kitchen, where most of the young children their age are dining.


	13. My Kind Of Party

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 13

My Kind Of Party

Back at the Duffman Manor ballroom, Felicity and Ben were already getting carried away with the dance, hand in hand, arm in arm, face to face. Their senses were already awakened by the time the music came to an abrupt but timely end, with the orchestra taking a break from performance for the time being.

"Whew!" Felicity exclaimed almost exhaustively, but gaily.

"That was fun, eh?" Ben asked excitedly, his heart still beating from the exercise of the dances, as well as from the sensation of spending time with his Lissie.

"Aye," Felicity answered him. "What about you, Ben? Were you all right?"

"I…I might have stumbled for a bit," Ben admitted a little awkwardly. "But…whenever I kept my gaze locked on your beautiful red hair and snappy green eyes, I didn't mind my steps. One bit." He cleared his throat as Felicity exuded a blossoming grin on her pretty face. "I got swept and carried completely away, so to speak."

Felicity chuckles to herself in reply. "Mayhap my…_charms_…enchanted to the point of dancing almost as fluently as an English gentleman," she informed him.

"Your blossoming maiden charms," Ben specified in a flattered manner for his sweetheart. "Aye; that was what got me carried away, Lissie." He was already envisioning Felicity bedecked with a simple crown of pretty flowers from the Merriman family garden.

"Are you honest about my personal assessment with getting you carried away, Ben?" Felicity asked her beloved in a rather impish manner.

"Of course I am," replied Ben, not minding whether he got carried too far in admitting his deepest feelings for Felicity. "'Twas exactly how I felt."

Their intimate moment was broken when Atherton suddenly stepped into the love scene.

"Well, well, well," Atherton broke in rather abruptly. "If it isn't Miss Merriman…" He immediately shot a curious glance at Ben. "With her mighty fine beau?"

"By way of young lovers it is," Ben replied fluently.

"I see."

Felicity was already holding Ben in a flirty manner, while facing Atherton at the same time. "Mr. Atherton, just what in heaven's name are you doing here?" Felicity asked impishly.

"Waiting for you, Miss," replied Mr. Atherton with great longing. "As you can see, I just…can't…help taking notice of your spunky charms."

"Well, as you can plainly see, Mr. Atherton, I already have a beau, and his name is Mr. Benjamin Davidson," Felicity declared with impishness as usual.

Ben was now starting to get a mite suspicious about Atherton, though he acquiesced with a handshake. Atherton shook hands with Ben rather limply.

Atherton cast another leering glance at Felicity. "May I steal your engaged?" he asked Ben while facing at the girl.

"That will depend on Lissie for the most part," said Ben a mite cautiously. "Mayhap I wouldn't mind a bit, but she will."

"A lot, so to speak," said Atherton.

"Indeed."

Turning to Felicity, Atherton asked, "Then would you be so kind so as to allow me…your ever-humble man, to take you for a dance?"

At first Felicity rolled her eyes. "Not at all," she agreed kindly. Ben scowled, as if he was rather averse to letting his Lissie go anywhere with another man. And Felicity knew it, which was why she had to placate her beloved a little. This was a dance, after all.

"I'll be all right, Ben. Really," Felicity assured Ben. "I'm not a little girl, you know"

"But you're still a bit of a girl, so to speak," Ben reminded her.

Felicity shot back a scowl at Ben in a cross manner. "I am _not_ a bit of a girl, Benjamin Davidson!" Felicity exclaimed in a whispered tone of voice. "You know that!"

Ben relented hesitantly. "All right," he blurted stiffly. "'Tis just that…well, you know how overprotective I can be sometimes."

Felicity felt rather sorry for Ben over the idea of leaving him in the ballroom, feeling awkward and inadequate. She put both hands on each of Ben's cheeks.

"Ben, don't feel crushed…or worried," said Felicity sympathetically out of love. "I'll be all right."

With a nod of approval, Ben gave a hand gesture indicating his giving permission with his Lissie to dance with Henry Atherton. When both she and Atherton swayed away into the music, Ben sauntered to the banquet table, snatched a wineglass filled to the brim with punch, and gulps it down. He started feeling as though he's the only one who's not participating in the festivities.

"Come on, Lissie," Ben said rather soulfully to himself. "Don't take my happiness away."

As Ben continues watching the dance, Atherton was already dancing hand in hand with Felicity. Well, actually palm-to-palm.

"Felicity Merriman Atherton," said Atherton. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think, Miss?"

Felicity couldn't help chuckling rather suggestively to herself.

"I believe that of all the young ladies that I've met, you…are the one who seems to stand out the most," Atherton commented to Felicity in a most flattering manner. "I would also suspect that half the men in this ballroom almost wished that they were in your arms tonight."

"Only half?" Felicity asked Atherton, half-giggling. "My goodness; I must be losing my indefinable allure."

"No, you are not," replied Atherton. "If 'twas the case, I should have lost complete interest in you already." Then he said sincerely, "But…since you seem to be a singular woman even of decent middling class, in my eyes, I…am beginning to find myself admiring and being drawn to you…more and more."

Felicity felt touched over what Atherton had just said to her. But should she keep going in this charade?

"I could give you a more than decent life, Miss Felicity," Atherton offered as graciously as he ever could in a confident manner. "Much more than your other man. If you want."

Felicity made a nervous laugh, despite feeling quite concerned over what Atherton was now doing to her. "Henry, please," said Felicity, trying to hide her concerned look which was about to be reflected in her face. "Think about what you're saying…"

"I mean it, Miss Felicity," Atherton blurted out in his dedicated foisting of the young girl, having become enamored with her anyway. He was on the verge of letting loose his passions, despite his struggle to control them. "Imagine it…us living in the grandness of New York…"

"You must be a generous man, Henry," Felicity said sweetly. "But…"

Atherton only narrowed his eyes a bit, suspecting very strongly that Felicity's answer would become a definite "no".

"I take it as not a yes," Atherton said rather grimly.

"And…you would be right, Henry," said Felicity. She had sympathy for Atherton in his lovelorn state of being, but her heart was already firmly set on Ben.

"My loyalty and devotion lie with my Ben, and no one else. Not even you, Atherton, despite the wonderful stories about your great wealth and prestige," Felicity finished sadly in sympathy.

"I fancy you, Miss Felicity…" Atherton trailed.

"But do you even love me?" Felicity interrupted him rather soulfully. "Truly?" Her face now had a suspicious frown. "Or is it more of lust…than of love?"

"Both," Atherton admitted, choking back his wretched behavior. "Lust…and love."

"And if I were to be your wife, and I fell into disgrace, would you still give prompt succor, giving little regard to any unfortunate circumstances that may befall me?" Felicity asked him quite seriously.

"I could," said Atherton.

"My Ben would," Felicity said to Atherton in a determined manner, as if she was very certain that Ben would help her in life, no matter what. "Without giving much thought of himself." She looked at Atherton. "You, Henry, on the other hand, are still much too consumed with yourself. I'm beginning to think that you want me…as your toy."

Despite Felicity's objections, Atherton was still persistent about keeping Felicity with him and continued foisting her.

"You are a woman of dignity, Miss Felicity," Atherton said to her, as if trying to convince her one more time. "You belong here, not in a godforsaken house of a mere colonial."

Felicity gave a shocked look, as if Atherton had just denigrated her familiar and cherished surroundings, which he sort of did. "Henry, your manners!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"What? It _is_ true," Atherton pointed.

"From your apparently prejudiced viewpoint," added Felicity. "The colonies is where I grew up in. And Williamsburg is my cherished hometown." Felicity shot Atherton a very cross look. "Even if it is colonist," she finished a little snappishly.

Meanwhile, Ben's role of dance spectator was abruptly interrupted when a fairly elderly gentleman in his late fifties met up with him.

"You happen to be the famed Benjamin Davidson that my wife occasionally talks about, do you not?" the man inquired rather pompously in a booming voice.

Startled, Ben turned around to face his talker. "Um…aye, sir," he stammered.

"Splendid, splendid," said the gentleman, as if a simple yes or no was sufficient for his query. "As you might happen to know, I am Lord Harry Duffman…" he took deep breath. "…Of Duffman Manor House."

Ben caught his breath to suppress his inherent awkwardness. "An honor to meet you…sir," he replied, as he shook hands with Lord Duffman.

Lord Duffman turned his head away from Ben briefly to observe the dance. Seconds later, his gleaming brown-black eyes caught sight of Felicity dancing fairly spiritedly to the music with Atherton.

"Does that girl with the ginger-red hair happen to have any sort of familiarity to you, Mr. Davidson?" Lord Duffman queried.

"Of course," Ben replied. "She's…she's my sweetheart. My beloved."

"Ah. I see," said Lord Duffman, having gotten the idea almost right away in his close-to-elderly mind. "Because it seems that my wife has been talking a lot during our conversations about that girl. Miss…Felicity Merriman, as was said."

Lord Duffman now turned his face to Ben in a rather superior manner, but one that did not reflect snobbery.

"Very fortunate of you and your friends to be invited as overnight guests at Duffman Manor," he remarked with sheer confidence in his booming tone of voice.

Ben simply rolled his eyes. "Aren't we all," he said in a wry manner.

"Yes, it then seems that it definitely had something to do with what good and brave did you and your comrades did to our house in the past," Lord Duffman suspected.

Ben figured that Lord Duffman was getting on to the incident of the sack of Richmond. "If you're referring to the incident of…" he began a little cautiously.

"Yes, yes, yes. I know," Lord Duffman huffed. "The day when Richmond was almost razed completely by the British. I be British myself, young one, but thought of our troops pillaging this _beautiful_ town…"

"…Is abominable," Ben finished right away for Lord Duffman, as if he had no need to here more of the incident, especially that he himself was present and Lord Duffman was speculatively not. "Right, your Lordship," he said. "I get your meaning here."

Lord Duffman winced over being interrupted by a youngster. "I do not pride myself on being interrupted, you man, but I'll let it go," Lord Duffman said. "For friendship's sake."

Ben cleared his throat in a rather uneasy manner. "I dare say that's mighty thoughtful his Lordship to bestow clemency on a mere colonist like me," he remarked.

"Ah!" exclaimed Lord Duffman in ecstasy, raising a right finger. "But a mere colonist, who, along with his friends, made a difference!" He turned his head slightly away from Ben. "On our household, that is," he added to himself.

"Unfortunately, one of our friends has passed away during the siege of Yorktown," Ben informed him a little somberly.

"Yes, yes, I was aware of that, so my wife keeps saying," said Lord Duffman before turning his head to Ben again. "You know here, she loves to gossip around. But she is lively, too, and happy in the times." He mused briefly. "Much of the time during this war, my wife often made lamentations about the young men on our side, and mayhap yours. Lamentations on your side were due to the fact that you…and your friends…saved Duffman Manor. Even if it was Loyalist at heart."

"Well…um…we got paid handsomely for our efforts," said Ben. "Thanks to the gracious Lady Duffman."

"Mm-hmm…" Lord Duffman mused rather thoughtfully.

Ben observed the dance some more. His gaze locked on both Felicity and Atherton.

"Do you happen to know Mr. Henry Atherton, your Lordship?" Ben asked Lord Duffman in a rather inquisitive manner of speaking.

"I'm rather suspicious of him," came the officious reply.

Lord Duffman could get rather perceptive of some situations at times. "He's after your girl, I gather?" he queried.

"Seems like," said Ben. "I wonder also if Lissie is also taking a fancy to him."

"Lissie?" Lord Duffman asked a mite confused. "Is that what you caller her?"

Ben took a deep breath again to suppress his uneasiness. "Aye," he answered fluently with a hint of confidence in his voice.

"Sometimes, Mr. Atherton can be a mite generous…to his friends," Lord Duffman bothered to mention.

"I hope."

"But do not fret, lad," Lord Duffman said to Ben a mite consolingly. "'Tis natural for a young maiden to take a fancy to another man."

"Well, the thing is, we're courting each other," Ben informed. He continued observing Atherton, as the dance ended, and Atherton made a dramatic, sweeping bow to Felicity, and Felicity made a fairly graceful curtsy, remembering how she was taught to make one from Miss Manderly. "Mr. Atherton, it seems, is determined to claim her as his own."

"Is he now."

"That would by my suspicion. Maybe he is, maybe he's not. I place my hope in Providence that the former is true."

"Hmm…"

It was not long before Felicity led Atherton to the area where both Ben and Lord Duffman were.

"My apologies for the untimely interruption, Your Lordship," said Atherton as politely as he could, but confidently.

Lord Duffman gave a rather absent-minded nod of assent to Atherton himself.

Felicity tried to be as cheerful as courtesy stipulated. "Ben, this is Mr. Henry Atherton," said Felicity, introducing Atherton to Ben. "Henry, this is Benjamin Davidson." She grinned an impish grin before adding these words, "My beloved beau."

"Delighted to meet you, Mr. Atherton, once again," replied Ben. Both men shook hands in an accord of diplomatic friendship.

"I scritch-scratch my English…and Tory head as to how you came to be here in the first place, given your _awfully_ fancifulmilitary attire," Atherton curiously remarked. "Are you not still in military duty?"

"I retired, is what I can say," Ben answered. "Originally I was an apprentice to Felicity's father, and I have just come back from the war to resume my apprenticeship, till the end of three years, so to be exact."

"Wonderful," said Mr. Atherton, hinting a tone of curt in his voice. "Most fortunate of you, Mr. Davidson, to be apprenticed to a man who keeps in possession a daughter you take a mere fancy to."

"Well, 'tis more than just mere fancy, Mr. Atherton," Ben countered a tad courteously with a half-humorous grin. "Both Lissie and I…are in love."

"Well…that's mighty wonderful of you," said Atherton, trying to hide some feelings of bitterness within the depths of himself, upon coming to the grim realization that both Lissie and Ben are meant to be together. "And you are courting, right?"

"Yes," replied Felicity pleasantly.

Upon his sudden encounter with Atherton, Ben made an effort to smile as pleasantly and humorously as courtesy allowed. "So, um…Mr. Atherton," he began. "I do seem to recall that the Honorable Lord Duffman spoke of you as a generous individual."

"I can be generous at times…to my friends, if that is what you mean," said Atherton with a bit of caution in his tone of voice.

Ben made a small nod. "That being the case, mayhap you wouldn't mind if I had my lovely Lissie back," he said.

Atherton made a face. He hesitated, as he couldn't find a way out of the situation while keeping Felicity all to himself. He had to give in.

"Very well," he replied. "She's yours." He let go of Felicity's arm with a little jerk. "…For the moment," he muttered grimly under his breath.

"My thanks, Mr. Atherton," said Ben, ignoring the man's demeanor.

Ben jerked his head a little to his right, signaling Felicity to follow him to the dance. Both he and Felicity headed off into the crowd of ball guests. Mr. Atherton was now in the same place where Ben was, under the watchful and suspicious eyes of Lord Duffman.

"You must be an exceptionally daring, risk-taking man, if I may say so myself, Mr. Atherton," Lord Duffman remarked in an observing manner.

"You underestimate my indomitable determination to have what I want, your Lordship," said Atherton, feeling rather clipped.

"But have you considered the costs of your determinations?" Atherton asked the young and impulsive lad.

Atherton's reply was rather curt. "Sometimes," he blurted.

Both Ben and Felicity were joining in a waltz at moderate speed. Their arms were half-wrapped around each other. Ben held Felicity on her shoulder with his right hand, as he held Felicity's hand with his left in a loving manner.

"Seems as though I've got a contender right now," declared Ben. "As had just happened not too long ago right now."

"I know," Felicity replied understandingly. "Henry."

"Takes a fancy with you, I gather," Ben remarked further in great suspicion.

Felicity observed Ben a little suspiciously, asking herself whether Ben was thinking of her as an unfaithful lout. "Why, are you accusing me of displaying his charms to him?" she asked her beloved.

"Nay. But he treats you like some kind of ornament."

Now Felicity was beginning to feel quite miffed over such a tactless evaluation. "Ben, really!" she exclaimed indignantly. "The very thing!"

"Why, what do you expect me to say?" asked Ben, in his own little effort to put his Lissie at ease.

"I expect you to have some consideration to Atherton," she demanded pretty seriously. "He does seem to be a smitten soul. Mayhap you'd feel that way if you were he."

"Most likely I would," Ben agreed. "Which…brings me to asking a rhetorical question."

Felicity smiled a little. "I'm waiting," she replied.

"Do you still love me?"

"Why, yes, Ben. Of course I do," said Felicity sweetly, wherein she started exuding her faerie charms in reaction to this faithful affirmation.

"Do you really mean it?" Ben pressed further.

"Aye," replied Felicity, affirming both genuinely and seriously. "I worried myself sick over my love for you. That…is how much I love you, Ben, to the point of praying for your safe return. Do you doubt my love for you, even for a second?"

Ben smiled back at his Lissie. "Never," he replied.

And Felicity beamed.

Meanwhile, Nan and Nathaniel Duffman were conversing with each other gaily at one of the ballroom corners, treating each of themselves to a slice of cake. Nan was seated on a dining chair, while Nathaniel was standing by near his newfound girl. Four young men who happened to be Nathanial's friends from the wealthy and middling families join in the conversation. Dialogues overlapped as the conversations went on.

"…Well, I'm not saying that courtship with Nathaniel isn't a possibility," Nan was saying. "'Tis too early to tell. Besides, I'm just too young."

"But should you not consider yourself lucky to be fancied by the son of a prominent family?" asked one young man close to Nathaniel's age.

Nan blushed as she moved her eyes upward in a manner that denoted some kind of bashful thinking mood in her face. "Well…" she began a little shyly.

"I was lured by her feminine charms," Nathaniel admitted right away. "Like the Sirens of old."

"And then he found me," Nan put in right away, too. "And he stood up for me when I was teased by three young ladies who teased me about me being a colonist, as well as my hair."

Nathaniel started fingering around Nan's hair.

"I don't know. I like it," said Nathaniel, commenting about Nan's reddish-auburn hair. "Mmm…" he crooned. "More than that. Love it."

Nan tried to brush off Nathaniel's hand from her head, thinking of it as him going too forward.

"I know you do, Nathaniel, but not yet!" Nan declared playfully, acting almost just like her eldest sister. "'Tis most improper for a gentleman to be playing with a girl's hair when she hasn't known him fully."

The other boys guffaw at each other over the scene.

"You're awful lucky, Nathaniel," said another boy.

Meanwhile, Felicity and Ben continued dancing to the waltz. It was not long until Felicity noticed that Ben's dancing was a little bit stumbling.

"Ben, you're stumbling again," said Felicity, concerned. "Is something distracting you?"

"No. Um…Not really," Ben replied a mite hesitantly, as if trying to hide something.

"Come on, Ben. Be honest with me," Felicity admonished him.

"I am honest," Ben tried to point out. "I'm just…not that good at dancing. I used to, when I was staring at you, but…"

Felicity was not going to put up with Ben's attempt at hiding secrets from her. "Ben really," she said rather disapprovingly. "Surely you're not setting your mind on another woman at this time."

"Of course not," Ben blurted out with indignation in his manly tone of voice.

"Then how is it that you're having difficulty with the steps?" asked Felicity worriedly. "I'm getting a mite uncomfortable dancing with you." She could be a bit worried over Ben missing a step and accidentally kicking her.

Ben heaved a rather rough sigh. "Face it, Lissie," he said forcefully to her. "This just…is not my kind of party."

Felicity looked at her beloved in a sympathetic manner, suspecting that Ben was worried about Atherton taking her away from him, when he had personally waited nearly four years to be with her. "You're worried about Atherton," she said softly to him.

Ben nodded his head. "I think so," he finally admitted. "But 'tis just mere suspicion. On my part."

Felicity gave the matter some thought. "I may be worried, too, but I just don't think that Atherton can be the man to go so far as to snatch me away," she hoped. "'Twould never be the actions of a true gentleman. But that doesn't mean that such things aren't possible, so now I can never be blamed by you for not being intelligent about what Atherton can and cannot do."

Suddenly Atherton stepped into the scene. He seized Felicity from Ben by her arms.

"Hey!" Ben cried in [rampant] indignation.

"Wha-…How _dare_ you!" Felicity yelled in an almost squeaky, unladylike tone of voice.

At such a shouting on Felicity's part the music immediately stops. The festivities were interrupted completely. Onlookers beheld and scrutinized the public display between Ben, Felicity and Atherton.

"I claim her to be mine and mine alone," Atherton declared coldly, as if he had a right to Felicity herself.

But Ben begged to differ. "You?" he sneered determinedly at the young man. He certainly wasn't going to stand for this insult to both him and his Lissie. "She belongs to nobody except me!" He lowered his voice to make asides. "Granted with the exception of her relations and God as well," he added further.

Gritting his teeth, Atherton pulled Felicity as close to himself as he could, and thrust his furious face close to Ben's. "She doesn't belong to you because you're not wed to her and she is not wed to you," he enunciated. "She still has a choice in life with regards to eligible suitors, and I intend to give her a choice as to whether or not she wants to…"

Without warning, Ben hauled off and threw a good strong nasty punch at Atherton. The punch struck Atherton directly on the right side of his face, and the force was enough to knock the wind out of him and get the man sprawling on the polished ballroom floor. Murmurs of "oohs" and "ahhs" and "ohs" echoed across the ballroom as onlookers watched anxiously as to what next was going to happen.

Ben cricked his right hand to shake off the pain that came with punching Atherton hard with his fist. "Turns out this is my kind of party," he said with a half-smile across his face.

"There wasn't any need for that!" Felicity whispered rather sharply to him.

"Why?" Ben asked rather casually. "He was getting out of line."

"And so are you," Felicity pointed anxiously. "He was giving me a choice as to…"

"What choice?" Ben asked Felicity half-bitterly. "That man had the intention of snatching you away without my knowing it. How can you possibly say he was giving you a choice in this matter?"

Atherton suddenly sprang up from the ballroom floor. "You _son_ of a colonial whore…" he seethed furiously whilst rubbing his bruised face side with his left hand, unable to take in the humiliation that came from getting struck by someone he deemed as somewhat inferior to his social status.

"What?" Ben retorted challengingly. "Are you looking for a fight?" He changed his tone. "I'm already on the verge of shooting him myself," he said to himself, but audibly in a manner where the audience could her every word. "Why don't I just grab a pistol and shoot the guts out of his cosseted, well-clothed body?"

Atherton was in no mood for taunting games. If he was in a mood for one, it would involve him yielding results in his favor. "I challenge you to a duel, Mr. Davidson," he declared determinedly.

A blanket of silence hovered across the ballroom after Atherton's voice echoed across the room itself.

Atherton was pretty much gleeful now that Ben was in a situation where he was forced to defend his own honor and the honor of his sweetheart. "I do sincerely hope that you're prepared…_Sergeant_," he said slyly, not to mention spitefully at the same time against his adversary between his claim for Felicity.

Ben shot a fierce look at Atherton before shooting apparent glances at the ballroom crowd. I refuse!" he declared in an absolute manner. His tone of voice no doubt reflected such absoluteness.

But there were some others who didn't think that refusal to a defense of one's honor was a manly way out of a situation. So someone shouted, "Coward!" and his shout no doubt was intended to be directly at Ben.

"You refuse, I'm still going to take your bonny lass," Atherton warned rather gleefully, reveling in the fact that Ben was in now what appeared to be a no-win situation.

"You do that, I'll kill you on the spot," Ben retorted in defiance, readying his fist for another punch at Atherton should the man go too far.

An anonymous footman stepped into the scene. "_That_ is not an acceptable option, sir," he said pompously.

"I don't give a damn," Ben declared, straightening up his coat jacket, as if getting ready to duke it out personally with Atherton mano a mano.

"You could be confined, you know, for getting barbarously out of line with an honored guest," the anonymous footman warned. "And possibly hanged if you make an attempt on his life."

"The hell I will."

Felicity was concerned that Ben's defiance would get too far to the point where his life would be in grave danger. Immediately she grabbed Ben's shoulder firmly and whispered, "Ben! Don't do this!"

"Don't do what?" asked Ben. "The duel thing?"

"That, but you can't just kill people on the spot just because someone loves me, too."

Ben frowned a bit, thinking that maybe Felicity was having some sort of affair with Atherton. "What's got into you, Lissie? At the Raleigh Tavern, you were so indignant to…"

"That was different! Here 'tis a matter of life and death!" cried Felicity. She displayed to her Ben pleading her pleading countenance. "Ben, you don't have to accept the duel, nor do you have to rid another man at the spot. You can just walk away."

"Can't," said Ben simply. He would not back out, even if it cost him his life. It was just is way of handling things.

Felicity became dismayed. Was Ben trying to impress his beloved through stepping up the bat? Now she was thinking that this affair was going too far for her.

"Is this about your pride?" she asked, mollified. "Ben, I can live without my honor defended, but I can never live without you! For the love of God, stop this foolishness at once!"

"This is different, Lissie," said Ben earnestly.

"Not to me, it isn't!" Felicity retorted indignantly.

Ben faced Felicity with an earnest look. "This isn't just about your honor, Lissie," he pressed. "This is about my honor, too, and without it, I'm just a shunned nobody."

Felicity's face still carried plea. "You said that I can't always have everything I want," she objected. "The same goes for you, too, Ben."

"But this is not a matter of 'want'," Ben had to explain. "'Tis a matter of 'have'. And what I 'have' to do is for necessity for the both of us. I can't back down, Lissie. " he backed away from Felicity. "I'm sorry."

Felicity frowned at Ben before taking a step back slowly and sadly shaking her head. Ben looks at her sadly, also. _I hope she'll understand_, he thought sadly to himself.

He straightened his buff waistcoat jacket again and faced Atherton squarely in the eye. "I didn't spend seven years away from my sweetheart in a war for our freedom just to have another man claim her as his," he declared. Felicity was what kept him going. She was his reason for living. She was his sense of purpose for him to keep on living, no matter what. And to just simply have someone take her away from him was more than he could afford to bear. To him, it was an insult.

He cleared his throat. "In that case, I accept the challenged," he agreed in fair confidence.

Dead silence.

"So it has been decided," announced the anonymous footman. "The duel will be met tomorrow, at ten in the morning, back of the Duffman Manor garden."

An atmosphere of dead, solemn silence hung across the entire ballroom, once again.

* * *

Audible but slightly hushed gossip simmered all around the ballroom after the initial showdown.

"Everyone, let us all enjoy ourselves at the party," Lord Duffman announced loudly, in his attempt to calm his guests. "There is no further action to be displayed…here."

Mr. Merriman pushed his way through the ballroom crowd to Ben. "Ben, would you care explaining to me what in God's name is going on in this ballroom?" he asked both sternly and suspiciously.

Ben was dazed. His heart was still beating rapidly from his efforts at overcoming his fears during the showdown of strong words with the Atherton lad. "Dunno," he replied almost trance-like, awkwardly and carelessly. "Haven't a clue…"

"Father, I can explain…" Felicity burst in forcefully and seriously.

"Lissie, no…don't," Ben cut in right away. "You'll only get yourself into further trouble. I'm responsible for…"

"Perhaps I can explain, kind sir, if you are seeking answers to this…_mysterious_…and confusing happenstance," interrupted Lord Duffman boomingly.

Mr. Merriman, though hiding his fears to prevent himself from fearing the worst, decided that some information on the situation would prove helpful to finding out what the hell was going on. "I'd be obliged, sir," he said quite diplomatically.

Lord Duffman cleared his throat. "Your young apprentice, it seems, has decided to seek a fight with one of the sons belonging to a prominent family from New York," he informed.

"What?" Mr. Merriman asked, mortified over what on earth he was hearing at such a moment.

"That's right," said Lord Duffman. "And your apprentice, as it seems, is determined not to back down."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm afraid 'tis serious, Mr. Merriman. If you do not believe him, ask…" He shot an almost disapproving look at Ben. "…Your young apprentice."

Mr. Merriman instantly turned to his apprentice. "Ben, this is outrageous!" he exclaimed. "What will Lissie say about this; _you _getting into a duel?"

Ben took a deep breath. "'Twas my call, sir," he said earnestly. "To defend Lissie's honor."

Felicity nodded her head in a solemn manner, despite her fright for Ben.

Mr. Merriman faced the Lord Duffman. "Ben has already picked a fight with that Atherton lad, hasn't he," he said. "And there's no turning back?"

"'Tis already a contract, Mr. Merriman," said Lord Duffman.

Mr. Merriman was now outraged. "I'm not accepting this," he declared furiously. For him, the very idea sounded like injustice both to him and for Ben, not to mention for his eldest daughter, too, possibly his family.

"No, sir," Ben tried to warn his master. "Mr. Merriman, I beg you, don't get involved in this," he pleaded. "For Lissie's sake."

Mr. Merriman came close to Ben. "You're my apprentice," he choked half-bitterly. "Don't you tell me…"

"No, sir. Lissie will need you," Ben persisted. "So will your family."

Mr. Merriman stopped himself, almost for no reason. It was not long before Mrs. Merriman rushes to the scene.

"What's going on?" she asked, flustered. "Edward, can you tell me?"

"'Tis about Ben, Martha," said Mr. Merriman sadly. "He's to fight in a duel."

Mrs. Merriman immediately put both hands to her mouth. She had every reason to be frightened. Most people were killed in duels. "A duel?" she asked in a mortified tone of voice.

"Exactly, Madame," Lord Duffman personally responded to Mr. Merriman.

Mrs. Merriman suddenly had a change of mood. By the noises she was hearing around the ballroom, she could tell from her motherly sixth sense that something not good was going on, but the whole duel thing was unexpected to her because she could not bring herself to accept Ben taking matters like that too far. "Why?" she asked in anguish.

"Apparently, the duel is over his sweetheart. Miss Felicity Merriman," Lord Duffman answered.

"My eldest?" Mrs. Merriman asked in the same mortified manner.

"Yes, Martha," Mr. Merriman sighed. "I'm not sure I can do much else about it, even if I were to physically bring Ben back myself."

"Atherton's servants would chase him and force him back," Lord Duffman informed them in addition. He widened his eyes.

Mrs. Merriman faced Lord Duffman anxiously. "Tell me more about this Mr. Atherton fellow," she pleaded in desperation.

Lord Duffman heaved a sigh. "Henry Atherton is methodical in his personal belief that taking Miss Merriman is the right thing to do. I fear that during the duel he will stop at nothing to get what he wants." He paused to take a deep breath. "He'll fight and keep on fighting and won't stop until he makes sure that Mr. Davidson…is dead." Mrs. Merriman was now shocked, her hand at her heart. Almost in all her life she had never heard of a villain that determined and that deadly.

"Oh no…" she said sorrowfully. "Poor Lissie will be most saddened over his loss…and 'tis bad enough she's worried herself over him during the war…"

"I know, Madame," Lord Duffman agreed in sympathy. "Sad. Sad…as can ever be."


	14. Deep Breath Before The Plunge

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 14

Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Ben took up residence in one of the Duffman Manor guest rooms of the third story, the one overlooking the back porch. As part of the agreement, he was not allowed to take up residence in the same room where the Merriman family was temporarily residing as guests, lest he should receive from them encouragement to escape his assigned lodgings. He felt rather resentful about that, since the aforementioned room was where both he and Felicity spent their time together prior to the ball, and he desperately wanted to spend time with Felicity again before meeting his seemingly imminent fate at the duel.

He was in his plain white shift, stockings and dark breeches, practicing with his own sword in the candlelit room. The rest of his clothes were straightened up on racks in a mahogany wardrobe. Deep inside him he wished he brought his own sword to the ball so that he could finish off Henry Atherton. So his hotheaded mind told him.

In a few seconds, there was a knock on the door, whereupon the door opened gently. Ben immediately turned his head to see who it was.

To his relief, it was Felicity. She entered the room, dressed in her nightgown and nightcap, and carrying a heavily tarnished candle with a wax-dripped candlestick on her right hand.

_But then…what on earth is Lissie here for?_ Ben asked himself curiously. He decided to blurt it out.

"Lissie, what on earth are you doing in here?" Ben asked her softly.

"What does it look like?" Felicity murmured in a small voice. "I came here to see you. Before you go off to the fight."

"So 'tis obvious," Ben remarked in a wry manner.

"Does my presence disturb you?" asked Felicity.

"'Course not," replied Ben. "Your presence may be just what I need, and my presence may be just what you need." He bowed his head. "For the both of us," he added to himself.

That being the case, Felicity stepped further into the room and shuts the door gently and quietly.

"'Tis a great certainty that both our presences with each other in this room is just what we need," said Felicity, "To calm our anxious nerves."

"Aye, that be true," Ben agreed. "'Tis such a comfort to have one's sweetheart visit their beloveds at a time like this."

Ben took his seat on the front of the bed. Felicity sits besides Ben's left side.

"So," Felicity began sarcastically. "Congratulations on ruining the festivities, _Ben_jamin _Dav_idson." Her voice also carried a tinge of outraged disappointment running through her head.

Ben was getting pretty miffed over Felicity's attitude. He sprang up from the bed and turns to face Felicity, berating him.

Ben turned around to Felicity. "Is this what you say to your beloved, Felicity Merriman, after what I've tried to do for you?" he asked, shaking, trying to master his anger.

"I think you could have done a little more than that," Felicity declared rather snappishly and blatantly at the same time. "Instead of throwing a punch at Mr. Atherton, you could have just simply ignored him and walk way with me, and forget what Mr. Atherton as done."

Ben towered over Felicity.

"And you think…that's so goddamn simple?" he asked bitterly.

Felicity crossed her arms. "I think it is," she said crossly.

"Not for me, it isn't," Ben disagreed. "Not for my honor, in the least."

Felicity flounced around Ben, getting to his front. "I seem to recall saying that my honor needs no defending," she pressed. "I am already a woman of dignity."

"Until Mr. Atherton starts tearing off your clothes and throwing you on the bed, and taking unto himself the pleasure of savagely kissing your body…and your bosoms…as if you were no more than a mere toy in _his_ presence," Ben added rather resentfully, as if the whole idea of Atherton taking Felicity as his own was something he would not stand.

Felicity winced at such descriptions. Not that she would wince over the idea of having Ben do that to her, but the thought of another man doing such things to her was just…abhorrent, and a violation of her dignity, and a robbery of her virginity.

"I'm beginning to think that Mr. Atherton has low regard for you other than the fact that he wants to use you as his personal whore," Ben warned her.

Now Felicity was a little more concerned now. "I almost suspected that myself," she said to him. "But those were only suspicions, Ben. He may have rudely snatched me from you, but that punch you threw at him only provoked him further in bringing you to your death."

"I thought 'twas the nobler thing to do."

Now Felicity was in convincing mode. "I still see another way out of this situation, Ben," she tried to persuade him. "We can sneak out the back door. Without anyone knowing it."

But as tempting as the offer was, his honor would not permit it, nor would his own conscience. "Lissie," he said sadly. "No matter what kind of ideas you've got in your head, the fact is going to remain that I did this for your honor, even if you're going to keep chiding me for it. And I have never backed down during a fight. Not since my glory days in the war. And definitely not from Mr. Atherton."

"I've heard what Lord Duffman has been saying about Atherton," Felicity tried to warn him desperately. "He's not only an expert swordsman, but one whose notions of morality are grounded in the belief that killing you is the right thing to do. So answer me this, Ben. _How will my death help my honor_?"

Ben decided to give the matter much thought. For his Lissie's sake. He sighed.

"Because it's my honor, too," he answered rather pensively. "I'd feel mighty guilty of not doing anything for the girl I love so much."

"Grandfather has never had approval for duels, even for ones that involve honor," Felicity reminded him. Felicity's grandfather was almost always against the whole dueling business; to him, it was a foolish and unnecessary waste of life for anything he considered pretty trivial to get killed over. And honor was one of them.

"Well, I'm afraid your Grandfather's not here to scold me on that matter," Ben told Felicity sarcastically.

Felicity was now cross with Ben. She couldn't understand how Ben could use her Grandfather's death to his own advantage in going against the wisdom of grandparents. "You're such an unkind man, Ben Davidson," she said crossly. "Do you really take the pleasure of having Grandfather absent from my life, even if he were to do that to you?"

At that point Ben realized his tactlessness in the subject of Grandfather's absence. He shook his head in reply. Felicity sighed.

"I…share your sentiment, Lissie," Ben broke quietly. "But…"

"…But what?" Felicity asked her beloved in an understanding manner, taking his left arm.

"The notions of a man's honor are much different from a woman's," Ben asserted. "Is it not in the noble nature of a man to defend the woman he loves?

Felicity couldn't think. The stubbornness of Ben when it came to placing oneself in grave danger for something she considered a rather light matter was just too much for her. "'Tis just that…" she blurted. But she couldn't finish. She could feel tears coming into her eyes.

"I don't want my honor defended," she blurted further. "I want _you_. _You're_ all that matters to me."

"I can't back down anymore, Lissie," Ben persisted. "'Twould be dishonorable to break my word."

"Well, 'tis too late now," she said rather forcefully and resentfully, in a mixture of sadness and anger. Anger for Ben's stubbornness. Sadness over her helplessness. Even if Felicity did what she wanted with Ben forcefully, Ben would stay her harshly.

Felicity's emerald-green eyes were on the verge of becoming tear-filled when she looks at her beloved Ben. She let out a sniffle, whilst keeping her arms crossed, as she mused in anguish over where the times when Ben never refused a request she made to him had gone. She tries to fight back her tears, but they just keep a-coming. Her eyes feel a bit misty.

"I still wish I've brought my sword with me if I knew I was going to get into such a predicament as this," Ben wished.

He took notice of a long case. Curious, he opened the case. In the case was a light small-sword, much like the one that Ben used during his days in the war. Felicity took notice of Ben handling the sword.

"I've asked someone to give you another sword so that you don't break yours," Felicity sniffled, as she walked around to hang Ben's coat on a small dressing chair. The chair was near the left side of the bed facing the front.

"You're very thoughtful, Lissie," Ben choked. "Mayhap my own sword is far too special to be broken."

"You'll be lucky somewhat," Felicity added in a morose manner. "'Tis about the same sword you're used to handling. You can thank me for making sure of that."

Ben just heaved a wry nod.

"I suppose you'll also want to dress up in style, too," complained Felicity.

"An implication that I should die with dignity?" Ben asked rather rhetorically.

"A most likely thing to happen in most duels; yes, people die, Ben, so you might as well dress in style."

Ben wondered whether his Lissie was beginning to sound more like a Spartan mother practicing tough love on her beloved than a loving sweetheart.

"And I suppose I should have a shield too, which I should carry with me to battle, arriving gloriously in victory, or spiked on in ignominy," Ben stated, elucidating his allusion of a long-ago Spartan tradition.

Felicity just sighed in exasperation.

"And a kiss," Ben added.

"Oh, _hush_, Benjamin Davidson," Felicity snapped rather crankily. "Do you really get pleasure from making _me_ support _you_ in _your_ foolish endeavor?"

Ben was suddenly dismayed over Felicity's attitude with the duel. "Lissie, what's got into you now?" he asked anxiously. "The first day I was taking my leave while you were but a girl of thirteen…"

"Oh, I don't know!" complained Felicity, shaking her head like someone shaking off flies off her hairs. "'Tis just…"

"No, Lissie. Tell me," Ben prodded forcefully. He would have no more of hesitantly made complaints. For him, now was the time to come to the point, even if it had to be pried by driving force. "What is it now?" he asked, his inflection going down.

Felicity took to sitting on the middle of the bed's front. She took a deep breath, and she was near tears. Ben looked at his sweetheart with sympathy, gradually feeling moved himself.

"I never thought it would come to this," she said sadly. "For five long years, I've worried myself sick over your own safety. And now…I worry myself sick all over again for your safety…when you go back to the battlefield to fight just for the sake of honor."

Ben was getting pretty miffed over the way Felicity was opinionating the upcoming duel. "Felicity, are you trivializing the whole situation?" he asked her.

"What does _honor_…have to do with _everything_…about _you_?" Felicity complained, unable to control herself, while doing desperate hand gestures that conveyed her apparent distress. "Why…does it _always_ have to be…about _you_? _Why? Why?_ I _don't_ under_stand_!"

"Lissie, please…" Ben pleaded.

But Felicity shrugged him off in frustration, like a dog trying to shrug off annoying fleas. "No, Ben!" she blurted out loudly, already on the verge of getting hysterical and tearful. "You can't even make a distinction between what can afford to be at stake and what does not have to be. What…what kind of man…_are_ you?" She hung her head in a hopeless manner and broke into sobs. Her whole body was already shaking with sobbing.

Ben brought a clean shift and hands it to Felicity. Felicity blew her nose with the shift like a sad, sick trumpet.

"Where is the Ben that was willing to come back to his senses when I asked him to?" she moaned hopelessly through her tears. "When he was running off to Yorktown…on King's Creek Plantation…on his way to join Washington's Army? I…I don't see him."

Felicity's face was bowed hopelessly, as fresh tears continued streaming down her cheeks. Ben took her hands and stroked them affectionately.

"Lissie…Lissie, 'I'm afraid 'tis not good to downplay the circumstance…when the honor of a man who had recently served his country is at stake," he reminded her as softly as he could, given now Felicity's anxiety over Ben's personal safety.

"But I…I'm…I'm _not_ trivializing it, Ben," Felicity blurted out again. "I-I'm just saying…"

"Shhh. Lissie,…" Ben soothed, putting his right hand finger over Felicity's lips. After that, he bowed his head. "I…I don't know how else to say this…but what you are a part of…right now…at this very minute…is far more than just mere a defense of honor. 'Tis not just about me. 'Tis about you, too." It took a second to recollect his thoughts. "If…If Atherton gets his way, your family may end up being persuaded by him to hand you over to him…for marriage. And…and if you refuse, Atherton can say all sorts of calumnies about you…and your family, thus allowing further…negative opinions…if you will…to plague you around Williamsburg. Reputation in general…I'm afraid…knows no easy recovery."

Felicity sniffled tearfully in acknowledgment. "Are…are you sure…that whatever you are saying right now…is most dreadfully true?" she asked Ben. In her mind, she prayed it wouldn't.

"That would be my most reasonable speculation, but 'tis not far from the line of realistic consequential happenings," Ben said. "In other words,…something like that may be possible. Which is why I would feel very guilty…in God's eyes…if I just simply sat back and let all this happen. I'm not going to dishonor myself further…by doing nothing about this."

Felicity nodded. "I know. I understand," she acknowledged. And it was true. She understood, even if it was unpleasant to understand for her beloved Ben's sake.

"Good," said Ben gently, trying not to sound too stern when it came to getting his way.

Felicity got off the bed and stood before her beloved. With his right hand, Ben affectionately stroked a tendril of her hair on the left side of her face. With his right hand finger he affectionately stroked Felicity's cheeks, and gently dried her tears. Then he gently put his fingers across and under Felicity's chin and raised her head, to which Felicity willingly did at will. The lovers' eyes locked deep gazes at each other, with Ben's soulful eyes looking deep into Felicity's tearful emerald-green eyes, which shimmered in the bright candlelight. Her face was slightly stained with tears.

"No despair, Lissie. Promise me that," he exhorted gently. "You must have hope, no matter what happens to me."

Felicity nodded a tearful nod in acknowledgment.

"Ask Walter and his Sarah to keep an eye on you…in case I get killed in the duel," he requested of her. He swallowed back before continuing to speak. "I know your father to be a man of honor, but in case he hasn't the nerve to confront him physically…"

Felicity would have felt miffed over such a thing said by Ben about her father, but what Ben had to say right now is very important, so she took it upon herself to keep quiet until Ben had had his say.

"…Walter will not hesitate to take a bullet…or a sword stroke…for you…in his dealings against Atherton," Ben informed her.

"But…Ben, he has a sweetheart," Felicity pointed. "Much as I admire his gallantry…"

"Lissie…Fifth Regiment boys are very, very loyal to one another," Ben reminded her. "Their loyalty to God, to their country, and to their commanding officers is fierce. Fierce as the lions that you'd see on England's royal banners. Mayhap Elizabeth told you about them." That was, in reference to the royal lions.

"She did…some of the time, when she was in England," Felicity admitted rather half-heartedly.

"That…is the very thing, Lissie," said Ben. "'Twas part of the training."

In his reminisces Ben could see himself fighting wooden dummies with all his might during the training at the Palace Greens. He could even see himself fighting hand-to-hand combat with a lone redcoat officer long ago, with a musket, then a sword.

"'Twas what got us through," he stated. "'Twas how most of us survived the war."

He could see himself huddled and shivering together with the rest of his friends near a flickering fire during a cold winter night in South Carolina, with the snowflakes falling. He and his comrades were cold and wet, as they struggled to take in whatever warmth there was from the fire, and they struggled to keep their spirits up about the free country they were going to live in if they won the war. He could also see himself casting a good long glance at a miniature of his sweetheart Lissie, as well as a small lock of her titian hair that he cut from Felicity's hair immediately before his departure. It was what kept him going through his personal hell during the war; what gave him something worth fighting for, worth dying for, and God-willing, worth living for. For every man desperately needed a sense of purpose in his life. Especially when he took upon himself a cause that seemed hopeless to many, but once realized, great.

Then his thoughts traversed back to Walter.

"Besides, Walter at this point is still looking for work," Ben mentioned.  
If compensated adequately by your father mayhap…" He stopped himself, thinking that it would be too cruel on his part to let his friend get involved in this affair.

"I dare not think anymore of this," he said. "'Tis too painful to think about, having Walter Wheaton involved in this affair, after what happened to Matthew Brady at Yorktown. I just…I just can't stand the thought of losing another friend."

Felicity nodded her head in a disconsolate manner. First Matthew Brady, and now Ben? _Where is the world coming to_, Felicity wondered in agony.

"I know," she agreed. "'Tis most painful."

Then she broke into muffled sobs once again. It breaks Felicity's heart to see Ben having to fight for her honor again, after he had been gone for four long, agonizing years during the war.

Ben fingered and strokes Felicity's locket necklace. And Felicity gazed at her Ben with tear-filled eyes, as she held both his hands to her heart.

"You know, Ben, I think it was a good thing that you decided to invade my privacy before the ball," she said.

Felicity embraced Ben, and Ben encompasses her in his strong manly arms. Then both lovers gazed at each other once again and shared a long, loving, and passionate kiss. Felicity kissed her beloved with a passion as fiery as her gingery-red hair in a fiery ardor of love. She took comfort in the moment when she rests her sweet, soft, warm, young lips on her love's. Ben

* * *

took the same comfort, too.

In the Merrimans' bedchamber, alone, Felicity plopped herself down on a chair near the dresser close to the bed, and cried silently.

* * *

A/N (1): "…sad, sick trumpet…" – This phrase was derived from pansyphoenix's Lissie/Ben story from .

A/N (2): "When he was running off to Yorktown…on King's Creek Plantation…on his way to join Washington's Army?" Felicity is reminiscing the day back when she was ten, when Ben, at age fifteen, was running off to join Washington's army; specifically, the "Patriots at Yorktown", so the book _Felicity Saves the Day_ puts it.

A/N (3): Because Col. Henry Lee's forces were involved in the Southern theater of the Colonies, it should be of no surprise that the Fifth Regiment should be involved mainly in the Southern theater (hence the mention of South Carolina).

A/N (4): The chapter title "Deep Breath Before The Plunge" was derived from a phrase of the Gandalf character from the third and last part of the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. (_Lord of the Rings - The Return of the King_)


	15. The Duel

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 15

The Duel

It was already eight in the morning.

In the already dark guestroom, Ben was stirred and woken from his deep slumber by a fairly cheerful and fairly stocky middle-aged serving man.

"Good morning, Mas'r. Davidson," he boomed.

"Mmph," Ben only replied, still snoozy.

"'Tis time, Mas'r Davidson," the servant had to remind him.

Ben stirred in his bed. "What time is it?" he asked rather sleepily.

The servant had just finished separating the window draperies to let the morning sun bathe the guest room.

"Eight o' clock in the morning. So the clock says," answered the servant. "Now come on, Mas'r Davidson. Rise and shine."

Ben struggled to get up from his bed, slowly throwing off the sheets. As he remembered that it was the day of the duel, tension was already keeping his heart beating at moderate speed that he started experiencing slight loss of appetite by the time he had just awoken.

"As the great Benjamin Franklin once put it, "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."

The witty proverb derived from Franklin's _Poor Richard's Almanac_ could hardly stir up Ben's sleepy but spirits mixed with a dab of tension.

"Mmmph," Ben only replied in a surly manner, as he tried to stir himself from his sleepy state. "Amazing how Mr. Franklin could have concocted such a witty saying at a time like this," he remarked in slight sarcasm.

"Oh. I believe he came up with it long ago, sir," said the servant, as he brought Ben his clothes.

"Many thanks, my good man," Ben responded to the servant in gratitude. Usually he wasn't used to having someone bringing his clothes to him; most of the time, he fetched his clothes himself.

"Should I assist you in your dressing, or would you like me to take my leave?" The servant asked him a mite courteously.

"The latter would be preferable, if you do not mind," answered Ben.

"Oh, not at all, Mas'r Davidson," said the servant. "If you need any assistance in this house, just call me…or any of the servants."

"I'll bear that in mind," Ben answered finally.

The servant took a deep and slow bow before taking his leave of the guest room, shutting the door, leaving Ben alone. And as took to getting dressed, thoughts about the duel and its effect on Felicity reeled in his mind.

_Fat lot of good that does me_, Ben thought rather surly to himself. True, getting up early for the duel could make him healthy and wise, but whether it would make him wealthy in a literal sense was another thing. If Ben lost the duel, he could lose his beloved Lissie, and most likely his life, especially since winning or losing a duel was a matter of life and death, and if the loser was lucky enough, it would just be a matter of keeping one's livelihood or losing it entirely. If Henry Atherton was ruthless enough to claim Felicity at any cost, even if it meant killing Ben on the spot, then Ben surely had nothing to gain if he lost the duel, and even if Atherton had any shred of mercy in his heart to spare his life, Ben would feel very, very miserable, since he would lose the love of his life to another suitor.

About the only thing that could give enough confidence to Ben during the upcoming duel was Felicity's unswerving loyalty to him, which she had while she perseveringly carried the flaming passionate torch of her love to him. Even if Atherton were to win the duel, he would not be able to claim his prize without first being forced to come to the disquieting realization that Felicity would be very, very miserable living with him day after day, since her true love was Ben. Of course, there was the brightening possibility of Mr. Merriman intervening on Felicity's behalf, but if Ben lost is life in the duel, then misery could be pretty much guaranteed, and it would most likely be a type of misery that she would have great difficulty recovering from before she could ever cope with living with Atherton; assuming, of course, that Mr. Merriman stood in his way.

Ben went downstairs for a quick and hearty breakfast.

* * *

The day was a beautiful and invitingly calm one. The birds chirped back and forth to each other during the early morn, and the crickets chirped their buzzing songs that filled the morning air. However, Felicity wasn't all too happy because this was the day when Ben would be involved in serious, dangerous swordplay, and although the beauty of the day soothed her spirits a little, it could never keep them lively because she would always be worried over Ben during the rest of the dangerous duel.

Henry Atherton's personal valet was holding Atherton's personal rapier-like sword. Atherton untied and removed his cotton-white cravat, and shrugged off his coat, leaving him with only his waistcoat over his shift. A group of spectators thinly lined at the direction of the back of the mansion prepared for the anticipated duel. A gentleman clad in a scarlet overcoat over his motley scarlet waistcoat, a pair of satin black breeches, satin whit stockings, and black gold buckle shoes, and holding a mahogany walking cane with a gilded spherical head on his right hand passed by the thin line of spectators. Near a comfortably shady tree, Lord Duffman and Ben were having a brief discourse with each other over standard sword duel tactics. Between the two men was a smallsword with its pointy end of the blade stuck fast to the moist grassy ground.

Situated near the dueling stage where the midpoint is located were the Merrimans, the Coles, Lord and Lady Duffman, and the young courting couple, Walter Wheaton and Sarah Bennett, who were standing behind the younger Merriman children respectively. Both Felicity and Elizabeth, including Phillip, were standing at the exterior midpoint of the stage. Felicity wore her creamy white ivory gown bedecked with roses, a plain white mobcap with bright red satin lace, and plain black buckled shoes. Elizabeth wore her plain pale-blue gown, the one she wore before the ball, lace mobcap, and polished black buckled shoes. And Phillip was still in the clothes he wore at the ball.

Mr. and Mrs. Cole were at Elizabeth's side and the Merriman family members are standing at Felicity's side; with Mr. and Mrs. Merriman behind Felicity, and Nan, Polly, and William side by side with each other in respectable order, with Nan being nearest her older sister. And at the last of the line were the Wythe parents, along with Fanny Brady, carrying her little baby boy. For Fanny, witnessing Ben fight was like witnessing a repeat of the history of her young husband's death.

Both Felicity and Elizabeth shared anxious feelings and looks with each other beside Felicity's left side, as do the rest of Ben's acquaintances and others who are personally rooting for him. They were praying in their hearts that Ben would survive the duel, if not win it. But nearly none could be so heartfelt than Felicity's since Ben was what mattered to her the most at that point.

Ben took off his soldier's wooden whistle. Lord Duffman handed it to Felicity, and she caresses it tenderly, holding it close to her bosom, since it was a reminder of Ben ever since the war.

Ben watched with intent, as did the spectators, as Atherton swung his sword in a rather showy manner, after which he pointed it showily at him in the manner of a cocky sword duelist. Given the manner of his sword handling, it certainly was apparent that Henry Atherton was an expert swordsman. Ben's expertise with a sword was tad rusty, given that it had been a long while since he fought with swords during the war. Atherton, on the other hand, has almost never lost a sword duel, and most his victims end up dead at his very feet.

Felicity and Elizabeth cast their anxious and curious gazes at Ben as he busily rubs his hands in preparation for the sword handling, which he is to take up very soon. At present, Atherton's back was facing Ben while he swings his sword a bit for warm-up purposes. Finally, he turns around to face his adversary, who is now armed and ready with his smallsword on his right arm on handle.

Atherton stanced as he prepares for his first strike. Ben, with sword in hand, did his best to brace himself.

Atherton took the first defensive lunge. Ben managed to successfully parry the strike by singing his sword to the left in the way of Atherton's sword. Then Atherton made three strokes which Ben tried his best to dodge and parry again.

Three strikes were meted out to each other until Ben managed to slash him sideways across Atherton's middle area of his torso region. If there were any physical injuries to be made against Atherton's body, they were no doubt minimal, as Atherton managed to sprint back before taking the blow in full.

Atherton's arms were now raised high. He steadily hovered his left arm in a downward direction over his torso.

"You'd best be careful, Henry," Ben said to Atherton rather tauntingly in a cool manner, in his attempt of overcoming his fears. "You know those things are sharp."

"Really, Davidson," Atherton sneered. "You would actually believe you of all people could have the gall of taking me for a fool?"

"I'm finding myself doing so," Ben retorted right away.

Atherton simply ignored Ben and resumed dealing sword stroke after sword stroke against his rival in combat. Ben found himself having to constantly parry Atherton's blows. Felicity blinked her eyes and gulped and winced during the spectacle, as she lightly places her right hand across her chest nervously, fingering her locket necklace in an almost pious manner.

"The Fifth Regiment has always made you and your pals so cocky, hasn't it?" Atherton sneered at him again, his inflection down, as he continued striking Ben and parrying his every blow. "I've seen your war records before, Mr. Davidson. You're so…overconfident you'd have great difficulty accepting even an ignominious defeat in the eyes of your Patriot sweetheart."

"Could be true," Ben agreed humorously. It seemed to be pretty likely that Atherton made curious private inquiries about Fifth Regiment members during his spare time. "Wouldn't doubt it much. I'm also beginning to guess you'll find in me a man who won't easily give sway to his adversaries when he is determined to fight for his cause and the one he loves."

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" Atherton sneered again, his inflection down.

Sword blades resumed clashing against each other, as Ben started turning around until both men are at opposite ends of their original starting positions. Ben turned to skillfully swing a strike at Atherton, but Atherton ducked it.

Atherton poised himself. Ben got slashed a bit near the top of his right arm. He individually held his arm to keep the pain bearable a bit. This was his first injury in a duel. Ben hoped that his eye would not be the next victim of hurt. That surely would have been much worse.

Both men kept striking and parrying each other with their dueling swords until Atherton pushed Ben away with another skillful sword strike, forcing Ben to retreat a bit as he sprung back to minimize the possibility of direct blade contact on his skin.

Atherton got into a rather deceptive relaxing position, with his sword hiding behind his back. In all appearance, Atherton was unarmed. But Ben, given his knack to suspect things, which was a valuable asset to him during his career in the Fifth Regiment, thought otherwise. Facing Atherton, Ben stopped warily in his tracks and stares his adversary in the corner of his eye.

"Come on, you coward," Atherton taunted. "Why don't you strike me? I _am_ unarmed."

"No, you're not," Ben countered, rubbing his bruised arm. "I think you've got a handful of unpleasant surprises hiding behind your deceptive back."

Atherton chuckled gleefully and confidently over Ben's countering. "Smart boy," he remarked with a sneer. "But what you _think_ and what you _know_ as _fact_ are not always exactly similar."

"And you think I'm stupid enough not to know that for certain?"

"Aye, Davidson. I think you _are_ stupid," Atherton remarked rather provokingly. "And a coward. Your father would be most ashamed of you if you were to just simply stay put and so would your red-headed sweetheart. Which I intend to pry away from your grasp once I'm finished with you, or rather, once I finish you off."

Atherton's threats could only tick off Felicity, who was now shaking in nervousness and gall over his provocative remarks. "You wouldn't dare!" she blurted out in a cross manner.

"Yes, I would, Felicity Merriman," Atherton said determinedly.

Ben paced Felicity. Felicity impulsively took a step forward near the stage when she was stopped in her tracks by a verbal warning.

"The duel is not finished yet, young Miss!" the Presider said sternly in his typical British lilt.

"I don't bloody well care," declared Felicity, shaking in heated and smoldering infuriation. In defiance she continued taking a step forward until she was stopped again, this time by the Presider pointing a flintlock pistol directly at her and actually cocking it. Felicity glanced at the man, then abruptly turns around, only to see herself being cornered by a stern-faced colonial in a dark-green waistcoat over his shift, pointing a Brown Bess musket directly at her as well and cocking it in vigilant readiness.

"You would do well to curb your tongue, Miss," the Presider enunciated. He waves pistol to his right direction twice as a visual indication that Felicity should get back to her proper place in the spectator line.

Felicity took a retreating step. To goad her further, Elizabeth's right hand and Walter pulled Felicity back by her waist. Nan squeezed Felicity's left hand with her right. Felicity let go of Elizabeth's hand, shrugging it off.

"Resume the duel," the Presider commanded briskly in the manner of an army officer.

"Resume the _carnage_ is what it means," Felicity retorted furiously in a whisper through gritted teeth, her eyes still smoldering with just anger.

Ben glanced at Felicity in a wry and rather hopeless-looking manner before facing his adversary once again in the dueling stage. Preparing himself for the inevitable, he brandished his sword as skillfully as he could, recalling to mind his training in Williamsburg's Palace Green during his recruitment days in the Fifth Regiment. Then he launched himself directly at Atherton like a mad bull, yelling his head off. Whether that was done for show remained to be seen.

Ben was almost upon him, but just in the nick of time, Atherton turned in a clockwise direction form his frame of reference and lands a hard, piercing poke with the sharp, pointy end of his sword blade directly at Ben's right side rib area.

"Well, this most certainly isn't going to take long, isn't it," Phillip remarked a bit anxiously, his inflection down.

"NO!" Felicity squeaked whisperingly in an unladylike manner She let out a gasp of horror at Ben over his self-inflicted predicament, and so does Elizabeth, each of their right hands directly on their chests.

"Oh, _Ben_…" Felicity moaned in anguish.


	16. Hard Justice

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 16

Hard Justice

Atherton laughed gleefully as he watches poor Ben wince and grimace in pain on account of his wounded side and pride. Ben briefly took a glance at his bloodstained left hand, which felt the wound of his torso's right side, and then used that hand to cover his wounded area as he applied pressure to alleviate the bleeding. As with the rest of her family and friends, Felicity was very much appalled over the way Atherton was treating his dueling opponent. _God forbid if Ben should ever do something like that_, she thought to herself.

Five strikes were meted out in the middle of the duel. Ben managed to parry them off. He still felt pain shooting out sideways from his sword wound whenever he exerted himself. He panted like a dog, but at the very same time made an effort to keep his head alert. All the spectators, including Felicity, watched anxiously as the two men dealt blow after blow against each other.

Atherton observed his wounded and bleeding opponent with dedicated glee and diligently brandished his dueling sword showily. Ben took the offensive, grunting as he executed each sword stroke, and Atherton, while on the defensive, parried Ben's sword strokes expertly.

Mr. Merriman felt pretty anxious as he watched the spectacle, as could be reflected in his very face, and so was Mrs. Merriman, as they silently rooted for him, for they knew that Ben was a valued and apprentice diligent in almost everything, as well as their eldest daughter's beloved. The rest of the spectators considered nearly the same way they do in varying degrees. In fright and motherly concern that her youngest child should be treated to such a seemingly barbarous spectacle, Mrs. Merriman covered little Polly's eyes with both her hands.

"Mother, I can't see," Polly blurted instinctively.

"'Tis too much for you, darling," whispered Mrs. Merriman in nervous fright.

Both Ben and Atherton kept fighting as they struck and blocked each other at varying intervals. Finally, after a few seconds of nonstop, dangerous swordplay, Atherton managed to stop Ben's sword blade dead cold, right over the middle of Ben's grassy spot on the lawn. Then he deliberately stepped on Ben's blade, literally snapping it apart, with the connection between the blade and the hilt literally broken. In a fit of drama Atherton slowly and steadily raised his sword up and points his blade directly at Ben's neck, with the sword point almost touching Ben's left neck area.

"At least," Atherton said finally. "You are beginning to find in yourself a man who _does_ easily give sway to his adversaries. Look at you now. All _beaten_ up and completely humiliated before your kin." He cast his gloating stare at Felicity in rather malicious glee. "And…your girl," he added.

Inside her, Felicity couldn't seem to bear the taunts thrown at her beloved. As Atherton was about to finish off Ben with his sword, she immediately made up her mind to intervene. Without a second thought she jumped into the scene – and attempted to stay Atherton's hand.

"That's enough, both of you!" Felicity scolded in a snappish manner. "You boys are acting like uncivilized brats!" She turned to Atherton. "Don't do it, Henry," she commanded. "There's no need for this."

Atherton glanced at Felicity, mortified and distracted. Without a cue Ben seized the opportunity to catch his adversary off-guard. He threw the blade sideways and swung a hard punched Atherton in the face with his right hand. In reaction Elizabeth held both her hands to her mouth in fright, and Felicity places her right hand on her chest in fright as well, mouth agape.

Atherton stunned, Ben kicked up the broken sword blade and caught it in midair, and hurls it at Atherton, which whizzed in the air and landed stuck on Atherton's rib area. This terrifying and verge-of-death happenstance was instantly followed by Elizabeth making a muffled and frightened shriek. Finally Ben picked up the broken hilt and whacked Atherton's face with it, bringing it down like a gun butt. Atherton's left side of his face was now lacerated and bleeding. Elizabeth's winced in reaction, as if the sight was utterly unbearable and brutal for her eyes to take in. Even Fanny, along with her parents and her little son, was not taking the whole coup de gras too well, as it reminded her too much of how her husband died at the Yorktown siege.

Ben now plucked up Atherton's sword and points it at his heart. Now he had the upper hand of his adversary. It was up to him mainly to make his choice of wither sparing the life of his dueling adversary or snatching it away in a snuff through a single sword stroke.

"Finish it, lad," commanded Lord Duffman in an urgent manner, as he stepped into the scene. "_Finish_ it and be _done_ with him once and for all."

Clutching his side, while pointing the tip of Atherton's sword directly at its owner Henry Atherton, Ben craned his head to Mr. Merriman, panting, awaiting some sort of word of moral guidance from his master.

"You can finish him off, or you can do what General Washington would do to his foes, which is usually to show him mercy," Mr. Merriman informed to his apprentice a bit shakily out of nervousness and relief over Ben's survival. His declaration demonstrated to his apprentice two choices in his dealing with duel opponents. "'Tis your call."

"Or you can leave him bleeding on the grassy lawn, humiliated," added Walter maladroitly.

Ben was poised to deliver the coup de grace against Atherton. His mind raced as to whether he should spare himself and his Lissie the trouble of being hunted by Atherton again. Mr. Merriman's words echoed at the back of his mind and the nuances of the latter choice were acting as some sort of conscience for Ben's fighting mind. Should he kill – or should he not?

Elizabeth rushes to the scene…and stayed Ben's hand.

"Ben, don't," Elizabeth demanded as she reined hold of Ben's sword hand, giving Ben a quiet and serious stare. "Don't do it," she pressed further. "You will have innocent blood on your hands, and you will regret it forever in your conscience. Don't do it."

Felicity beheld the scene, bewildered over what her best friend Elizabeth was doing with Ben.

"In…innocent?" Ben stammered in a retorting manner. "Elizabeth,…in case you haven't noticed, this son of a bitch tried to kill _me_…and spill _my_ _guts_!"

"I _have_ noticed, Benjamin Davidson!" Elizabeth retorted quickly, in her attempt to prevent Ben from going further with killing. "But do you remember what happened to _Henry_?"

Henry Cole was Elizabeth's cousin on her father's side. Initially Ben came across him in a Continental camp when he was one of a handful of British officers captured by Washington's army. During the Siege of Yorktown, Ben could remember himself being held hostage by Henry, when Henry was holding Ben at gunpoint. When Ben pulled the pistol's trigger, the bullet literally drilled through Ben's arm and penetrated Henry in the middle of his body, inflicting a fatal wound. Ben had to face a terrible and tearful scolding from Annabelle over the Coles' loss of their fairly close relation.

_Ben had to endure an intense scolding from Annabelle, wherein she rushed out of the room crying her head off, with Elizabeth and Felicity watching, their faces solemn. Ben, upset over the situation, placed the knife on the settee._

"_If you wish to take vengeance for his death, now is the time," he croaked. He did this half-heartedly expecting Elizabeth [of all people] to rush madly at him like a mad bull, wreaking vengeance against him for the sake of her [beloved] cousin by plunging this very knife into the depths of his battle-weary body. Without another word, he took leave of the Coles' house._

_But Elizabeth shook her head. For her, too much blood had been shed during the war; there was no need for further bloodshed, and certainly not in her family household. "No," she said softly and sorrowfully, as she attempted to hold back tears. "There has already been too much killing during this horrible war. I dare not be a part of further bloodshed."_

_Slowly, she handed the knife to Felicity as she struggled to maintain her composure, despite intense, heartfelt sadness over the loss of her cousin._

"_Give this knife…back to your beloved," she told her best friend. [Try as she would in holding back her tears, they rolled anyway, and Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with them as they rolled down.] "And tell him…I wish no evil on him; nor have desire for vengeance…against him. He did what he knew was his duty…in wartime._

Elizabeth kept pressing on her grave countenance at Ben. "Don't let this go too far, Ben, even if this is in the line of duty on the field of battle," she pleaded softly.

Remembering that past incident with Henry Cole, Ben decided to relent. But he poked Atherton with the sword point, just to make him remember the day that he tried to fight him in a duel. Atherton winces. And Ben threw away the sword.

Elizabeth seemed to be right. Ben thought that Atherton got what he deserved without having to finish him off completely in the duel just to prove his point.

"Come on, Lissie. We're as long done here," croaked Ben, trying to contain his bitterness. Elizabeth composed herself as Felicity assisted Ben with walking, on account of Ben's sword wound on his side.

Henry Atherton got up slowly. The sight he witnessed that was enough to drive him mad was that brown-haired, brown-eyed gigolo Ben with his young ginger-haired, green-eyed lover Felicity, with their backs on him. He wanted to have Felicity desperately, and now Ben had her.

"Felicity! Felicity!" Atherton cried most desperately. "FELICITY!"

Felicity still had her back turned against Atherton as she aided her limping Ben.

"You already lost her, lad," Lord Duffman reminded Atherton. Be gracious."

But Atherton would not stand for this. Persistently and furiously, he pointed his right finger at Felicity in direct accusation. "You…you set this up, you ginger-haired whore!" He spat. Felicity's eyes widened. "What did I ever do to _you_, huh? Aside from seeking your affections? HMM? I never did _anything_ to you, yet _you_ are doing this…to _me_!"

Felicity flounced around, taking a step forward, and gave Atherton a cold, impersonal, and distant look, which implied anger at feeling grievously insulted. Elizabeth shrank back to the line of the crowd. Felicity started to feel sympathy for Atherton, but she shrugged it off because of Atherton's boorish manner. Atherton's eyes were already blazing with fury.

"I _curse_ the day I ever met you, Felicity Merriman!" Atherton spat infuriatingly, as he spat his disgusting spit on the grassy ground. "All along, you have been _toying_ with my feelings ever since I encountered you in Duffman garden! You have made me feel _hurt_…and _betrayed_! YOU _JEZEBEL_!" And he spat on the ground again with even more hatred than ever before.

Calling Felicity a Jezebel was as good as calling her a heathen, an especially that Jezebel was a biblical symbol for heathen depravity, an epitome of impudent, shameless, morally reprehensible women. And such name-calling was enough to goad Ben to answer justice's call for his Lissie's sake. Limping back to where Atherton was standing, he immediately landed a right-handed punch at Atherton's face again. The punch that struck Atherton made him stagger to the ground completely, and while Atherton was bringing himself up slowly, Ben was curling his fist.

"Don't you _ever_…call my Lissie with that name," he growled most bitterly, shaking in smoldering rage. "_Ever._"

"But she _is_, Davidson," Atherton said furiously and deliriously. "She _is_."

"You'd really think I'd believe such dishonorable things like that?" Ben asked him bitterly.

"You would believe almost anything," Atherton told him through gritted teeth and bated breath." Did you ever take into consideration that the Merriman girl would have a tendency to attract…_unwanted_ _lovers_?"

Ben was in slight dismay, despite feeling disgust for Atherton's ungentlemanly behavior. "Lissie!" he cried. "Don't tell me you've been…"

"'Tis _not_ true!" Felicity retorted crossly, getting hurt over such an implication. "And I certainly don't intend on listening to anymore from this _oaf_!"

As she struggled to keep up her dignity, she yanked Ben's arm and led him away from the duel scene. Ben almost tumbled as he struggled to keep himself upright, despite his side wound.

"You shall never escape my wrath, Felicity Merriman!" Atherton continued ranting furiously, pointing his right hand finger at both her and Ben. I intend to make sure that you see the cost of your torturous schemes! And as for you, Davidson, I hope to God the Yorkshire terriers lick up your _precious_ Patriot blood! And you, Merriman bitch, I'd like to see _your_ own precious Patriot blood spattered on the ground of your family household! I hope the dogs lick up your pretty flesh and lick up your blood!" And then he shouted all the more louder, "I DAMN YOU TWO TO THE DEPTHS OF FIERY _HELL_!" He took a bated breath. "After all, that's where all redheads should belong," he muttered under his panting breath.

And without hesitation, Atherton viscerally fished out a pocketknife and readied to hurl it at his intended target, Ben. Then with all his might he hurled it. At the last second, Felicity turned around to see Atherton already hurling his knife. She warns him with a squeaky, unladylike "Ben, look out!" and Ben instinctively turns his head in a split second, and manages to evade the deadly whizzing knife, which sticks fast in a tree trunk in front of Ben a stone's throw from him.

For Ben, this was now too much, and too dangerous to leave Atherton alone. He immediately headed to the table in a visceral manner, where a gentleman's pistol lay flat at the end. Upon seizing the pistol without second thought, he immediately took aim near Atherton's head, and fired his shot. The bullet impacted directly on Atherton's chest. Felicity recoils in fright and shock.

A dying Henry Atherton was now on his knees, facing both Felicity and Ben. Ben halfheartedly kept the smoking pistol pointing on his body,

"What…what happened to your mercy, Davidson?" Atherton strained weakly from severe blood loss, as his life steadily ebbed away.

Ben's answer was very wry, with some tinge of remorse. "You forfeited it," he only answered simply, as he retracted the smoking pistol in his hands, with the pistol barrel pointing up.

Atherton exhaled his last breath. Then he crumpled to the ground backward, dead, his mouth agape, and his glassy eyes still open, pointing to the clear heavens.

Elizabeth was shocked, and so was Felicity, but Felicity had difficulty getting over Atherton's insults, and from her point of view it seems that Atherton had already made her feel guilty about what she did to him when she first encountered him. Elizabeth had her right hand permanently on her mouth. But Felicity could only stare somberly at the dead body of Henry Atherton, and could only thank God in her heart that it was not her Ben dead before her very feet.

Ben started to wonder whether the adversaries that he would have wanted to spare for humanity's sake ended up dead. First it was Henry Cole, and now it was Henry Atherton.

"Take this now-dead corpse off the lawn and dispose of him properly," Lord Duffman ordered half-promptly.

Two footmen arrived with a stretcher and lifted the dead body of Atherton onto the stretcher, before covering him up completely with a dark-blue horse blanket. Then the footmen departed with both stretcher and corpse.

* * *

The Presider, pretty much untouched by the scene, much less the event of the duel itself, saw fit to disperse the crowd now that the duel was over. "All right! He announced loudly. "The spectacle is over! You can all go back to your homes now, if you see fit."

Mrs. Merriman made her hurried rush to Ben in aid. "Ben! Ben!" she exclaimed in worry, while supporting him physically. "Are you all right?"

Ben took a strained breath. "Just…a slight wound is all," he answered rather wearily, struggling to breathe.

"Where?" asked Mr. Merriman right away.

Ben pointed heavily to his side wound. Mr. Merriman immediately took off his coat and tore off both sleeve portions of his shift. He used those torn-off portions to wrap them around Ben's waist.

"Mr. Merriman, are you sure…?" Ben was about to point about his master's hospitality.

"You're still my young apprentice," said Mr. Merriman determinedly. "And I'm not letting you pass out on my watch. Not on my Lissie's."

It was not long before Lord Duffman comes up to Ben.

"Well, Mr. Davidson," he began. "It seems now that you've finally vanquished your adversary to the point where he is no more."

"Well, there's still his body to consider, and it still existing on this earth, waiting to get all-rotten," Ben added in his same wry manner of speaking.

Lord Duffman then turned to Mr. Merriman. "Mr. Merriman, perhaps you would not mind if I had a private word with your apprentice?" he requested.

"Only if I'm present," Mr. Merriman answered him with absoluteness.

"And if I'm present, too," put in Felicity determinedly in the same manner as her father. After all, Ben was her lover, and she felt entitled to the right to hear anything that had something to do with her Ben.

"We shall head back to the mansion house," Mrs. Merriman informed her family rather formally. After beckoning Nan, William, and Polly, the rest of the family made their way back to the Duffman Manor house.

Mr. Merriman, Ben, Felicity, and Lord Duffman stayed behind at the duel scene, discussing the duel and its outcome, as the rest of the spectators took their leave of the scene itself.

"I believe there is something that you three should know about Mr. Atherton that may precipitate some sympathy for him," said Lord Duffman.

"Speak your piece, then," said Mr. Merriman.

Lord Duffman cleared his throat. "Henry Atherton…was a very troubled soul," he said.

"That much could be certain," Ben put in wryly.

"Why do you say that?" asked Mr. Merriman.

"The man, I think, cannot and should not be regarded as altogether evil," replied Lord Duffman, answering Mr. Merriman. "I believe he is civilized man, consumed by his passions, but was weak in his struggle to reign in his controls of his passions."

"Are you making a denial of viciousness on his part?" Ben asked Lord Duffman with a half-snort. "Your lordship, the man deliberately tried to kill me." He took a glance at the knife stuck deep in the tree trunk. "I was damn lucky to escape from the clutches of his deadly throwing knife."

"I believe you would have done the same if you were he," Lord Duffman asserted.

Ben faced Lord Duffman. "I would?" he asked quickly.

Lord Duffman only nodded his head in grave earnestness.

"No. No, I wouldn't," Ben countered.

"Nobody is perfect in this world, Mr. Davidson."

"All right. Nobody's perfect. But there can be some gallant knights who stand out chivalrous to their ladies fair."

"You can afford to say that because you have a love. Poor Atherton never had one. No lady ever wanted him, despite his wealth and charm."

"Might I politely inquire as to why that was the case with him?" asked Ben further.

"He was too…demanding. He had the tendency to ruthlessly pursue anything, regardless of the cost of those that mattered to him the most."

The gentleman turned to Felicity, then to Mr. Merriman, and then to Ben. He faced them all.

"I am not saying to you that ambition is to be frowned on," he lectured. "What happened to Atherton was that his unchecked ambition enslaved him to the things of this world, leaving very, very little time to attend to people that mattered the most." He paused to take in a deep breath. "But for the most part, a bit of that changed when he met…your engaged and became so smitten with her. Desperately he wanted her for his own…as a passionate companion. An object of pleasure. His passions got out of control, which led him to spark the duel which as now took place. And on account of the humiliation which you put him in, he was more determined than ever…to get rid of you once and for all so he could claim his prize."

Mr. Merriman sighed sadly and wryly. "Well, now that the fight is over, is there a way for Ben to avoid getting…prosecuted?" he asked Lord Duffman. "His family members and acquaintances could do all in their power to harass him…and us."

"The only thing we can do for him now is just say that Henry Atherton died honorably in the duel," Lord Duffman advised Mr. Merriman. "And I believe doing just that may protect your honor as well, since you face the possibility of being charged for unlawful murder against a gentleman in the community."

"I had just as much right to use deadly force on that man," Ben declared indignantly.

"You are not in the army anymore, Mr. Davidson," Lord Duffman reminded him. "Most civilized folk would not take too kindly to seeing a respectable gentleman being shot on sight in front of their very eyes. And you blatantly shot him in front of the eyes of civilized witnesses."

Ben mused. "Then mayhap my beloved and maybe her best friend will understand what I had to do," he remarked.

Lord Duffman just decided to agree with Ben for now. "I shall say no more," he said with great finality.

"Better if you didn't," agreed Mr. Merriman. "I'm getting a mite creeped over.

"So am I," agreed Felicity.

Ben faced Felicity with a grin. To him it wasn't like Felicity to be scared of some things. "Creeped?" he teased her half-jokingly. "Lissie? Come on."

Lord Duffman just chuckled to himself as he took his leave of Ben, Felicity, and Mr. Merriman. Now the little group of three headed back to the manor house.

As both Ben and Felicity share a kiss with each other, Walter came catching up with the young courting couple. He puts his arm around him in a most manly manner.

"Hey, Sergeant. Doesn't kissing gingers make it dangerous to your good health?" he asked his best buddy humorously in reference to the incident where Ben almost got killed by the ginger-haired girl near Felicity's age.

Felicity slapped Walter at the back of his head.

"Ouch!" cried Walter, as he rubbed the back of his head. It didn't really hurt that much, but even a slap on the head done out of tease could still tick him off.

"Sometimes, I just can't help it once in a while," Ben replied in his own good humor. Felicity gives Walter a rather saucy smile.

"Serves _you _right, Walter Wheaton," she said saucily to Walter, while pointing her right finger at him. "Now…not another _insult_ to ginger-haired people like me. Is that clear?"

Walter only shrugged in reply and as Ben and Felicity continued back to the Manor house, with Ben leaning on his Lissie for support on account of his sword wound. And Walter crossed his arms and whistled a manly tune.


	17. Unfinished Business

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

**Written By:**_** Commander Cody CC-2224**_

CHAPTER 17

Unfinished Business

Back in the guest bedroom where the Merriman family resided at the Duffman Manor, things were going along pretty quietly. Ben was going under a mild mending operation under Nan's gentle care, while lying flat on his back. Felicity also stroked his chocolate-brown hair as well in a playful and flirty manner.

"You are such a good seamstress, Nan," Felicity said rather affectionately to her younger sister. "I think Ben and I shall always be indebted to your skill, for it has saved his life. I'm not sure I would know what to do without you."

Nan nodded silently before looking up to Felicity.

"You could learn," she said sweetly.

Felicity only shook of that remark with a laugh. "I'm just so terrible at sewing," she remarked herself.

"You're not that terrible at sewing," Nan told her eldest sister kindly. "You've improved over the course of your childhood."

Felicity sighed. "I know," she said. "But 'tis never the same as actually having the _real_ talent for it."

Ben stirred slightly. "Lissie?" he asked.

"Yes?" asked Felicity with a suggestive smile in her pretty face.

"Are you still in the mood to stroke my hair?"

Felicity giggled to herself. "Why me?" she asked teasingly.

"I don't know," answered Ben. "I just like it when a girl strokes my hair. Mayhap I might be able to do the same with you after we get back home."

"Really?" asked Felicity, smiling suggestively again.

"Mm-hmm," Ben seemed to promise.

Nan just shook her head, grinning to herself over Lissie and Ben's flirty play.

Mr. Merriman and a servant were preparing the family carriage at the front courtyard driveway of Duffman Manor house. Ben arrived at out of the Manor house to the courtyard, assisted by Felicity. Nan was also beside Ben, assisting him side by side with her eldest sister.

"Ah, Ben," Mr. Merriman greeted, upon taking immediate notice of him being assisted by his eldest daughter. "Feeling better so far?"

"Never in my life," Ben replied.

Mr. Merriman nodded. He knew now was the time to begin his usual father-son lecture about the foolishness of duel-fighting.

"Well, Ben, you won your duel," he said to him. "That is more than good. To never fight another…is even better. And I would discourage myself from fighting another one if I were you. Only God knows how many lives were claimed in such wanton foolishness."

He faced his young apprentice in a fatherly manner as he cleared his throat. "If you want to keep my Lissie's hand in courtship, and God willing, in marriage as well, you must promise me…and her, for my sake, as well as for our sakes…and Lissie's sake as well…to never fight another duel," he told him seriously. "Ever again."

Felicity nodded her head agreeably in demure seriousness as she looked at Ben. "I do hope you re_mem_ber that, Benjamin Davidson," she declared firmly in a rather corrective manner.

Ben nodded his head in reply. "Aye, sir," he finished earnestly. But he couldn't shake off his mind the thought of having his honor questioned. "But what if people call me "coward" if I didn't accept a challenge when blatantly offered one?" he queried his master.

"Don't give a damn about any of them," said Mr. Merriman. "The only thing that is going to matter between you and Lissie…is whatever there is in your heart. Because 'tis only in the heart…" He pointed at Ben's chest with his right-hand finger. "…Where the truth of your character lies."

"And what if I were to be forced into fighting another duel, sir?" Ben interjected further. "I mean, what if I were to be put into a position where I am literally trapped like an entertainer in an arena?"

"Then frankly, Ben, I might be somewhat inclined to make an exception in such a situation as that," said Mr. Merriman. "But remember, Ben, that as long as you are given a choice to accept a duel or not, you can still back down without any shame. I'm sure Lissie would want that from you."

Ben nodded rather awkwardly. "I'll try to remember that one, sir," he promised.

Mr. Merriman beams at Ben and slaps his right hand on Ben's left shoulder. "Don't just try," he advised his apprentice. "_Do_."

Ben nodded again a little stiffly.

"Father, may Ben and I ride Penny?" Felicity asked her father right away.

Mr. Merriman laughed as he turned to his eldest daughter. "Are you being inconsiderate again, my dearest Lissie?" he asked her. He himself had doubts about Ben being able to ride a horse in his condition.

"That's all right; I can take it all," put in Ben. He would almost put up with anything just to be beside Felicity.

Mr. Merriman sighed. "Take it easy on Ben, Lissie," he told her. "He's still recovering from his wound. And if you two are going to be riding, you'd better do it within my sight. This means no trailing off the traveling route." _I'm a mite inclined to say "Don't blame me if something happens to him because you've asked for it, Lissie", but oh well,_ Mr. Merriman deliberated to himself. _But I have some faith in Lissie herself. She'll know what to do._

"Have I made myself clear on that matter, Lissie?" he asked her finally.

Felicity smiled a bit. "Yes, Father," she responded.

Felicity took hold of Ben's hand and while keeping him upright, the young couple took their leave of the courtyard as they head off to the stables to hitch Penny. As they left, Lord Duffman and Nathaniel entered the courtyard.

"I thought I shouldn't see you take your leave without extending my gratitude for being my honorable guest," he declared. "With your honorable apprentice."

"Your Lordship does me far more honor on my household than what I can bear," replied Mr. Merriman rather wittily. "But I thank you for our hospitality."

While Lord Duffman and Mr. Merriman were conversing, Nathaniel was already conversing with Nan in amiable friendship.

Lord Duffman was just close to taking his personal leave of the courtyard, until he notices Nathaniel.

"Nathaniel…" he called.

"One moment, Father," Nathaniel called back.

Lord Duffman heaved a rather heavy sigh. In a few seconds Mr. Merriman found Nathaniel with Nan.

"I never thought I'd find you here, Nathaniel," he remarked rather genially. "Your father tells me that you take a fancy to my younger daughter."

"Too true to be said, sir," agreed Nathaniel with a half-smirking grin.

Mr. Merriman was about to climb into the carriage when Nathaniel stops him for a moment. "Which…which reminds me of one thing, Mr. Merriman," he added further. "Some time in the future, if you don't mind, I would like very much your permission to court Miss Nan."

Mr. Merriman made a pensive face. _Wow_, he thought to himself. _How my two eldest daughters are already growing up…_ It had been a long time before he had to worry his head over courtships, marriages and stuff like that.

He faced Nathaniel. "Not till she's fifteen," he told him conditionally. "And that will depend on her."

"And I also suppose that will depend whether you stay in Williamsburg," added Nathaniel in reply, feeling pretty disappointed. He had overheard slight rumors between his father and Mr. Merriman about the latter thinking about moving out of Williamsburg due to certain business situations he knew not about, nor was utterly familiar with.

"Hopefully," Mr. Merriman answered simply, as he stole several long glances across his surroundings rather wistfully in a rather relaxed manner. "Despite Williamsburg losing its prominence, I can give a fair guarantee that business will be flourishing by the time my younger daughter reaches her age. You'll still live in Richmond, am I right?"

"Of course, sir."

"Then if business gets too slow to the point where we are unable to make ends meet, that's where we could move."

Nathaniel gulped nervously. "I…I know I cannot officially court her, so you say, but…will I get to see her again, if the opportunity permits?"

"Indeed you may, Mr. Duffman," said Mr. Merriman. "Indeed you may."

Nan smiled coyly and Nathanial beamed back in reply.

"Thank you, sir," he said in gratitude to Mr. Merriman. "I dare say your generosity knows no bounds."

Mr. Merriman just shrugged his shoulders politely. Nathaniel tipped his tricorn hat in a cordial manner and departs back to the house. And Nan climbed back into the carriage.

* * *

While inside the Duffman Manor stable, Felicity was walking an already hitched Penny to the outside, with Ben pitching in a bit. After Penny is taken out of the stable, Felicity mounts the saddle on Penny's back.

"You're not going to ride sidesaddle?" asked Ben, upon noticing that the regular saddle was in place on Penny's back.

"I'm tired of being a lady, Ben," said Felicity. "I think I'll just ride her the regular way, like the way you boys do."

Ben chuckled all to himself. There goes my Lissie, all wanting to be a boy all over again," he teased. "Who's doing the steering?"

"Well, given your dreadful condition of being pierced on your side, perhaps I should do the steering for the time being," said Felicity while in the middle of mounting Penny. After mounting herself on Penny's forward front, she helps Ben up on the horse by pulling him up with her left hand, since Ben was beside Penny's left side. Ben is now riding at the rear end of the horse, right behind Felicity.

"Just hang on tight," beckoned Felicity. Ben viscerally took a firm, encompassing grip around Felicity's bosom.

"Well, not on my bosom, Ben," said Felicity with a suggestive laugh. She tried lowering Ben's grip to the downward area of her waist. "There. That's much better," she finished.

Felicity goaded Penny, tapping her right side with her right hand. "All right, Penny-girl. Let's run," Felicity pressed.

The horse trots off. Felicity can only take her on a light canter because of Ben's condition.

* * *

A/N (1): "Well, Ben, you won your duel," he said to him. "That is more than good. To never fight another…is even better." – This quote was derived from the last part of one of the Horatio Hornblower series episode _The Duel_. Sounds like sage advice for Mr. Merriman to hotheaded and headstrong Ben.

A/N (2): "Your Lordship…" – This quote was borrowed from Robert Bolt's play of Thomas "Uncle Tom" More called _A Man for all Seasons_.

And now for another romantic scene of Lissie and Ben…in the final chapter of this story…


	18. A Quiet Evening

**_Duel For You, Ben Davidson_**

**Written By:_ Commander Cody CC-2224_**

CHAPTER 18

A Quiet Evening

Later that evening at an eight o-clock time, Felicity and Ben were seated at the back verandah of the Merriman house back in their beloved hometown of Williamsburg. Felicity was on the right side, and Ben was on the left. Each of them was treating themselves to a steamy, warm mug of hot chocolate. The evening sky was relatively cloudless, and was sparkled with twinkling stars across the heavens. Indeed the starry sky had a dark cerulean color.

Ben had just changed into a bright red overcoat over his shift, his beige-brown breeches, and his brown-black buckle shoes. Felicity was already in her ivory-colored lace gown, with a creamy-white lace mobcap perched over her pretty head. Her pocket hoops were removed, giving her a modest, homely look. And she had changed from her dancing shoes to her regular black buckle shoes. Now she had the appearance of a young simple colonial gentlewoman. What were held in common between the two with their clothing were the creamy-white linen stockings.

Each of the two young lovers had a lighted, flickering candle on a polished gleaming silver candlestick holder by their sides. Ben had a candle on his left, and Felicity had a candle on her right. The illuminating candles gave out a yellow-orange glow. Felicity's and Ben's faces were illuminated and warmed. Ben's chocolate-brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair shimmered in the candlelight, and so did Felicity's snappy emerald-green eyes and vibrant titian hair; all of which were captivating to behold in the illuminating candlelight. As usual, both their hair was gathered into a ponytail, with Ben's hair tied up by a flat black ribbon, and Felicity's hair tied up by a plain, homely snowy-white ribbon. The polished silver hot chocolate pot was right next to Felicity.

Ben breathed in the fresh evening air "The night is young," he remarked pretty genially, before turning to Felicity, who was smiling back at him in a happy mood. "And so are we," he finished.

"Mm-hmm," agreed Felicity dreamily in a suggestive manner. She turns her gaze to the night sky as she gingerly sipped her hot chocolate from her mug. Ben beamed as he looks back at Felicity.

"Your attire is most wonderful and wholesome for this special evening," he commented.

"'Tis my summer gown, mostly," Felicity informed him. "But I dare say I wear it on many occasions during the spring. 'Tis the most comfortable."

"Methinks I have to agree. On your very behalf," he said before lapsing into a short musing period. "At least _you_ don't have to dress up for some pompous fop lord in a befitting fashion that you find most uncomfortable. You should consider yourself so damn lucky."

Felicity couldn't help chuckling to herself. "Oh, Ben," she chided teasingly. "Really, you as a hotheaded colonist never cease to come up with newfangled ways of making the life of the aristocracy appear and sound so amusing." And she laughed again as Ben started going into a muffled fit of guffaws.

"Really," Ben teased. "I always thought 'twas Walter who came up with most of the amusements. He always did have…and amusing personality." He sipped his hot chocolate in a reverent manner and exhales relaxingly. "And that was especially true during the war, when he and I were best comrades, along with good ol' Matthew Brady."

Felicity's face became a mite somber on hearing the name of one of Ben's deceased friends who died during the war. She knew that not everyone could be as lucky as Ben and Walter were.

"Matthew Brady…God rest his soul…" Ben muttered in dreamy sadness in a low tone of voice. Felicity gulps a bit in reaction to Ben's sudden mood of sentimentality. With her left hand she affectionately stroked Ben's right arm once in a downward direction.

"I'm sorry…that he has passed away," she said to her beloved solemnly, in an almost motherly tone of voice.

"Tosh," said Ben, shrugging off the sympathy. "He's already passed the judgment gates of God in heaven above and ushered into felicity without end." Ben drowned himself into his thoughts again as Felicity smiles to herself in a sentimental manner, as the word "felicity" was her given Christian name. "Methinks, he will also get to enjoy the ministrations of several angelic mistresses while he's on high."

Felicity chuckled quietly right away. "Ben, really," she admonished him softly. "Is that supposed to be _your_ idea of heaven?"

"Aye, I like to think that it is," Ben answered him with a serious determined nod. People who had seen death up close and had difficulty getting the experiences out of their minds had to have some kind of positive belief about the afterlife from a Christian point of view. "And it gives me great consolation on behalf of poor Brady. 'Tis what every man deserves after he's done his part fighting for a better world…in an earthly hell."

Felicity sighed softly. "I don't suppose I can argue about that without being so…tactless," she said.

"I'm just about fine with rational argument, Lissie. 'Tis just that…well…just don't…um…try to aggravate things further by exploding into spasms whenever I start getting newfangled notions about God, heaven, and hell. Not until you've walked even half a mile in my own personal shoes; until you've seen the unpleasant things I've seen during the war."

Felicity made a serious nod before gazing deeper into her hot chocolate in her mug. She could almost see a teensy bit of her reflection as the candlelight shines on the smooth, liquid surface. She briefly pondered over what Ben has said to her just a few seconds ago, before Ben broke again into one of his sentimental moods.

"Funny…how both my late father and late friend shared the same name…both of them were named "Matthew", that's for sure," he remarked broodingly unto himself.

Felicity faced Ben in a sympathetic manner. "I am sure they were all brave men. Brave fighters for the same…_Patriotic_ ideals you and I share. Hotheaded, mayhap, but brave," she replied consolingly.

"Like _you_?" asked Ben.

"In a manner of speaking," said Felicity. "Of course, I have to admit, I haven't done any _serious_ fighting for the Patriot cause, but I could say that deep inside me, I could occasionally be a warrior at heart. In my own little way. Fighting for justice and right."

Ben made a rather visceral laugh. "Methinks that must remind you a lot about the time when you made every attempt to free Penny from the clutches of that ruffian Jiggy Nye…"

"Now you're starting to make me feel _very_ sentimental," Felicity interrupted him in a teasing manner.

Ben nodded his head in a cursory manner. He was still in one of his sentimental moods again. "I tell you, Lissie, when we get married and are blessed with several happy, healthy, lively, romping youngsters…" Felicity giggled to herself over Ben getting carried away with future family matters. "And if one's of them a son, I think I'm going to name him 'Matthew'." He paused himself in brooding over. "I think 'tis a courageous name, if you ask me."

Usually it was considered indelicate for a man to speak of things like that to a woman, but with Felicity, that was an exception for her, since she didn't usually mind. After all, it was typical of her to flout society's conventions of propriety in her own little ways.

"Mother says 'tis indelicate for man to speak of such things to a lady," she informed Ben. "But…I dare say I'm finding myself in that same impatient feeling of longing that you're in." She heaved a sigh. "But we're still courting," she had to remind him and herself realistically. We're not to be officially engaged until right around the spring of next year."

"Pity," Ben sighed. He took a deep breath and exhaled a little roughly. "Oh, well. 'Twould do no good for us if we were to rush things for our own benefit. Methinks I'll be the next one who gets a lecture from your mother about the virtue of patience."

"Hopefully you won't, Ben," said Felicity with a suggestive laugh. "You're a far more realistic person than I am. I just simply…rush _headlong_ into the heart of things…like an impatient, headstrong little girl," she finished with unladylike gesticulations of her hands.

The two lovers decided to give the matter some silent thought.

"What if were to have and raise a family that was all girls?" Felicity wondered aloud.

Ben answered that he wasn't all that concerned about wealth or status, and that he always has had a way with girls, especially since the time he got to enjoy with his sister, Hannah Davidson, who unfortunately died back in August of 1769, when she was only six years old when Ben was ten.

"Well…" he began, before he had to give his reply some matter of thought. He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "If you still remember since the very first time we met, since you were little, I told you about the time that I had a sweet little sister, whom I still miss. So being with girls isn't all that new, nor alien to me." He faced Felicity in earnest. "Besides, what matters between the both of us is _love_."

Felicity relaxed after listening to Ben's answer; she now knew for sure, hopefully, that Ben will never cause her grief over the issue of sonship or daughtership if they intend to start a family in the near future. It was what almost every woman dreamed and yearned for.

Felicity decided to get on to the matter of Penny. "How is Penny doing?" she asked. Ben told Felicity what he did for the horse while Felicity had to help her mother around the kitchen for the evening supper preparations.

"She…um…she's doing mighty fine," Ben answered truthfully. "I feed her the oats, and warmed her with a blanket till she was comfy and warm."

"'Tis true that you were always competent with horses," remarked Felicity. This much was true; as such competency was required in the Fifth Regiment. And Ben was very good at it. "And you're also a friend to them," she added.

"Mayhap, I should have been called "Phillip". As in "lover of horses"," Ben declared wittily.

Felicity burst out laughing in a rather unladylike manner. And Ben laughed, too. After calming down, Felicity had some serious thought in her head, which goaded Ben to cut his laughter.

"I wonder whether Atherton should have been spared," said Felicity.

"I gave him one chance, Lissie," said Ben. "He forfeited it in a close attempt of taking my life through his blade that struck a tree. Close to my body. Can you even imagine for a moment how _close_ I was at death's jaws?"

"I…I suppose I should not disagree with you on that, for I too would have felt that way if I were in your shoes," Felicity assented a mite hesitantly, hoping to herself that she was not at all too tactless about Ben's duel predicament. "But Atherton…I…I just…"

"Just what, Lissie?" asked Ben with concerned.

"I just can't help feeling sorry for him."

"Aye," Ben agreed, feigning tactlessness. Henry Atherton was a very troubled soul.

"Indeed." Felicity looked at Ben. "But I can almost tell by your tone of voice that you really don't care."

"Of course I care, Lissie," Ben retorted. "I had remorse after shooting the man. My hand literally trembled as I held that smoking pistol in my grip." He only hung his head and sighed to himself.

"Lissie, I can't understand why we're at that topic," Ben said to her a mite anxiously. "Did you _love_ him?"

Felicity shook her head determinedly. "_No_, Ben, I did _not_," she answered him forcefully.

"All right," said Ben, determined to set things down, once and for all. "That's all that matters." He knew it wouldn't do any good to pry into these matters further. He already had had enough of that with Atherton already.

As he held his hot-chocolate mug, Ben proceeded with making a toast. "To personal victory," he declared genially. "To the good luck…and the good Lord…that kept me alive during my fateful hour." He hung his head in a meditate manner. "And to a forlorn hope that Mr. Henry Atherton will finally rest in peace."

Felicity bowed her head in some sort of solemn commemoration to Atherton. After a very brief moment's silence, Ben raises up head, exhales gratefully. "To good cheer," he added finally.

"Amen," said Felicity with a smile.

Ben and Felicity toasted to each other. After tapping each other's mugs lightly, they concluded the toast with a beholding of each other's countenances, followed by a quick kiss with each other directly on each other's lips. Then they turned their young heads straight at the darkening sunset in the same direction as they sipped their hot chocolate together.

Felicity turned her head to see who is watching. It was Mr. and Mrs. Merriman, with Mr. Merriman encompassing his wife. Both shared an approving and genuine smile, as they knew in their hearts that both Ben and their eldest daughter would be very happy together. Felicity then turned her head back to her Ben.

Ben stroked Felicity's hair and kissed her on her left cheek. Felicity slowly kissed him back on his right cheek as well. Ben put both hands on Felicity's cheeks and planted a peck on her forehead. Felicity leaned on Ben's protective side and Ben took his sweetheart under his manfully protective arm, while his arm stroked Felicity's hair in a downward direction.

Nan, William, and little Polly took pleasure in watching Ben and their eldest sister together, wrapped up in romance. William watched the show, fascinated. Nan took Polly's hand as they watch together from the doorway. Nan was touched, and so was little Polly.

Wrapped in each other's arms, both Felicity and Ben turned their gaze toward the beautiful April sunset.

**THE END**

* * *

Whew! That really was a long story about Lissie and Ben.

I hope you all enjoyed the story. Please R&R. (Review and Rate).


	19. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

_**Duel For You, Ben Davidson**_

Acknowledgements

The Author of this story would like to extend his deeply immense gratitude to those who have contributed very valuable information in the form of insight, personal experiences, and historical accuracy info to the following persons, places, and things that were influential in varying degrees to this fairly momentous story project:

- Pansyphoenix – For her wonderful and dedicated insight into the love live of Felicity and Ben, as well as her most valued advice on making the story plot a lot nicer

- MackenzieW – For giving some general but much valuable insight as to the aspects of love lives in the colonies, especially to Felicity and Ben

- Valerie Tripp and the Felicity series books, with which the character Felicity Merriman and others were based directly on, as well as the events in relation to the life of Felicity the American Girl

- Elizabeth McDavid Jones and the three American Girl mystery novels written about Felicity the American Girl, from which some information was directly derived

- Joss Whedon and the _Firefly_ TV Series, with which a masculine side of this story was influential in the formation of the story plot, and to the scriptwriter for the _Firefly_ TV Series episode _Shindig_, Jane Espenson, from which the entire story is heavily based on

- The 2004 version of the _Bloom_ movie, with which much of the scenes were the inspiration behind the toned-down sensual fluff featured in this story

- The CUA Counselor, Mr. John Chamberlain, for which much of the insight about romance discussed during a majority of the scientifically informational and insightful counseling sessions on dealing with infatuations with young ladies played a major part in the fairly realistic formation of Felicity and Ben's romantic relationship back in the fall 2009 semester (The Counseling Center was located in O'Boyle Hall in CUA, where Mr. Chamberlain worked.)

Give 'em a whoppin' hand, Ladies and Gents. They wholly deserve it.

Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap, …

* * *

_"These things don't just happen. They take time, and they take planning."_

- Monsignor Walter Rossi, Rector of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

(An excerpt from an oft-recited formal welcome-n-gratitude speech that is said whenever the National Shrine celebrates a momentous occasion or whenever a Roman Catholic bishop is present and officiating Mass)

* * *

A/N: The number of "Clap" words total to eighteen, in relation to the number of chapters in this story (which total to eighteen).


End file.
